


Make a Lover of Me

by twobirdsonesong



Category: Glee, klaine - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Beginnings, Chaptered, Complete, Developing Relationship, Drama & Romance, Eventual Sex, Frottage, Hospitals, Jealousy, Klaine, Light Angst, Los Angeles, M/M, Mentions of past Blaine/Sebastian, Papa Bear Burt, Romance, a little bit of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:18:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel has just moved from Ohio to Los Angeles and he has no idea what he's doing there.  He begins an internship at a talent agency where he meets Blaine Anderson, an assistant who has more to his name than Kurt knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt Hummel is not going to be late on his first day.

 

His internship at ICA starts in two hours, which doesn't really matter since he's been awake since 5:13am, and dressed and ready to walk out the door for the last hour already. He makes himself drink a cup a coffee and forces some semblance of breakfast into his belly. He knows he'll regret it later if he doesn't.  His roommate sleeps like nothing less than a truck smashing into the building will wake him up so Kurt doesn't worry too much about making a little noise in the morning. Not too much though, he's not a dick - even if he’s not used to having a roommate.

 

He waits as long as his nerves will let him before he grabs his car keys and his laptop and walks outside to his car.

 

The agency isn't that far from his little apartment, but he still gives himself 45 minutes to get as close to work as possible, battle his way into a parking spot, and walk the few blocks back to the front doors. He's just an intern which means he doesn't get a designated parking spot and he has to fight for one every day he's there.  After moving to Los Angeles, he learned quickly to read the street signs (all of them) and to hate street sweeping day.

 

ICA’s office building is fairly unassuming. There's no big sign declaring the occupants and the flat grey wash of the exterior doesn't scream money, power, or influence. But Kurt knows it's a little different inside.

 

Kurt stands outside the glass doors, gripping the strap of his computer bag tightly, and takes a deep breath.  He's sweating a little in his suit and he tugs anxiously at the perfectly square knot of his tie.  During his interview he was expressly told that the dress code was suits and ties for the men and the equivalent for the women, and it applied even to the interns. And that every other Thursday they had a man come in to shine shoes, if Kurt was interested in such a thing. As soon as he’d gotten the call that he’d been accepted as an intern, Kurt had gone shopping for a few things that might be acceptable to wear at a Hollywood agency.

 

Though the outside is plain, inside, the building is all marble floors and polished hardwood and the scent of fresh-cut flowers.

 

A security guard stationed across the bank of elevators asks him where he's headed and checks his computer when Kurt explains he's starting his internship. His name must be listed somewhere because the guard waves him in with a smile. Last time he was there, for his interview, he'd had to show ID and sign in. At least then he'd been able to park into the garage and have his ticket validated.

 

Kurt steps into the elevator and presses the button for the 8th floor, the top floor. If nothing else he stands a reasonable chance at being able to catch a pretty good view of the city from time to time. Not that Los Angeles boasts much a skyline to begin with.  ICA is a small literary and talent agency, but an important one. And one that's growing in influence every year. It's partly why Kurt applied for an internship there.  Apparently the partners have the money to take part of the top floor in a building just a couple blocks south of Wilshire.

 

The doors to the office are glass, too, and Kurt can see the whole of the reception area through them. The walls are white except for the one across from the doors, which bears a hand painted mural. He remembers sitting in one of those cushioned chairs waiting for his interview to begin, and how a couple of people had walked past him on their way out of the office. One girl, roughly his age, with long straight black hair and a skirt short enough he was sure it didn't meet dress code, had looked him up and down and lifted an eyebrow, but she hadn’t said anything. The guy she was with – tall and long limbed and wearing a perfectly fitted suit – hadn't even looked at him at all.

 

Kurt squares his shoulders, grabs the door handle, and steps inside.

 

He's early and there's no one at the front desk yet. When he was there before, a boy a little younger than him had been sitting there. Kurt doesn't remember his name, but he remembers the other guy had been wearing thick glasses and a smirk.

 

Kurt glances between the empty desk and the doors that lead into the office proper. Technically he works here and should just be able to walk in, but he also kind of wants to wait for instruction, and the awkwardness of his first day is already crawling up his spine and he's frozen where he stands.

 

The main door opens and Kurt sighs in relief when he recognizes the man who enters as the one who interviewed – and hired – him.

 

"Hey, Kurt!" Mr. Schuester greets. He's wearing a vest over his dress shirt and carrying a very large cup from the Coffee Bean.

 

"I know I'm a little early,” Kurt answers. In his short time in Los Angeles Kurt has already learned that no one is ever on time.

 

"No no, come on in. We'll get you all set up and next time you won't have to worry about it. You can just get started.” Mr. Schuester waves Kurt in and Kurt follows him into the office.

 

It's early and still quiet, but the assistants are already there, sitting at their desks, getting some tasks done before their bosses come in and start bombarding them with demands. The agents’ offices line the outside wall of the space and the assistants' desks face their agents so they can see and hear each other. The set up gives every agent a view of the city and every assistant a glimpse of the outside world they have no time to enjoy through the windows.

 

Kurt tries to take as much in as he can, but Mr. Schuester is talking and walking just a little too fast for him to really get a good look.

 

"This is the intern area," Mr. Schuester is saying, gesturing to one side of the office where a collection of long desks are set up, almost like an extension of one of the assistant’s desk. "We don't have a typical mailroom like some of the other agencies because we want you guys to really be involved in everything that goes on here."

 

Kurt nods, even though he was told all this already during the interview last week.  He’d spent half of the interview nodding along as Mr. Schuester extolled the virtues of ICA, its partners, and its business philosophy.  Kurt hadn’t really understood half of what he was being told, just that it all sounded great.  Small business in a big town.  Quality over quantity.  Standards of excellence.  A whole jumble of catchphrases and key words that were hard to argue with. He knows he doesn’t want to be an agent, and doesn’t actually know what he’s really doing in Los Angeles at all, but he also knows that he needs to get internships on his resume if he ever wants to anything of worth.  He doesn’t have the family connections that so many people in the town have and he’s got student loans to start paying off.  So ICA it is.  For now.

 

“You can put your stuff in the back,” Mr. Schuester tells him, looking towards the kitchen area.  Kurt knows he’s going to be spending a fair bit of time back there, considering the fact that making coffee and doing the dishes is a main part of his job, as is keeping the office clean.  Kurt doesn’t have much with him, just his computer, which he takes out and puts on the desk, claiming a spot, and his bag, which he quickly tucks away under a table in the back.

 

When he comes back to the intern area, Mr. Schuester is gone, probably into his office, and there’s someone else there, getting settled at one of the other open spaces at the desk.  Kurt recognizes as the guy from his interview, the one with the thick glasses and the look on his face that’s just a little too close to a leer.

 

“Hey,” the guy says.  He’s wearing a black suit that doesn’t quiet fit him and his dark blonde hair is tousled in a way Kurt is sure took him 15 minutes to do. “First day, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Kurt gingerly sits down next to him, at the spot where he’d put his laptop.  “I’m Kurt,” he introduces himself, holding out his hand.

 

“Chandler.  Nice to meet you.”  Chandler’s palm is a little clammy and Kurt resists the urge to wipe his hand on his pants. He knows he can’t make any enemies on the first day.  Or even mildly annoy someone.  Those things linger.

 

“So is it just us?” Kurt asks, looking around. From their position in the office, all of the assistants basically have their backs to them.  He can see the long, straight black hair of the girl who’d walked by him the week before, and the bare length of her legs beneath the desk.  And next to her, nearest the big corner office, sits a guy with broad shoulders beneath his dark suit jacket.  He has black hair, combed through with some sort of product, but Kurt can tell it’s naturally curly. He can’t see his face, but Kurt can just glimpse the soft line of his jaw and the shape of his small ear.

 

“Oh no,” Chandler laughs even though it’s not remotely funny.  “The other interns will get here soon.  “Come on, we’ll get the coffee started before anyone bitches about it.”

 

Kurt follows Chandler back into the kitchen and watches as he pulls the ground coffee from a cabinet and gets out a filter.

 

“So where are you from?” Chandler asks as he measures coffee and pours water into the pot.

 

“Oh, uh, I live in Hollywood.”  At least Kurt is pretty sure it’s still Hollywood. He’s not quite sure where one neighborhood begins and another ends.  All he knows is the rent on his apartment is cheap enough that it should worry him.

 

“No one is from Los Angeles,” Chandler laughs again and Kurt grits his teeth.  He’s fairly certain he’s going to dislike working with this kid.  “I mean, where are you _from_?”

 

“Ohio.” Kurt responds.  Chandler’s spilled some water on the counter and Kurt grabs a paper towel to wipe it up.  He tries not to roll his eyes at the carelessness.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.  Lima.” Kurt’s chest hurts a little at the thought of his hometown, and his dad who’s probably been at work for hours already.  It’s been months since he was home last and sometimes he misses it more than he can say.

 

“No idea where that is,” Chandler says flippantly. “Come on.  I’ll show you how to fill the water in the conference rooms.”

 

Kurt ends up carrying two tall carafes of water out of the kitchen.  There are two more people in the intern area, a tiny girl with brown hair and aggressively pink high heels, and a tall, lanky boy with shockingly blonde hair.

 

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Chandler says and Kurt can’t quite tell if he’s teasing. 

 

“Oh whatever,” the girl rolls her yes. “You know you’re only here early so Schue will see you got here first.”

 

“Excuse me for trying to get ahead,” Chandler counters.

 

“Getting ahead, or getting _head_?”  The tall boy chimes in, grinning brightly, and Kurt isn’t sure if _they’re_ teasing or not.  He hasn’t quite learned when people in this town are being sincere or just casually cruel.  The water carafes are getting cold in his hands.

 

“Whatever,” Chandler scoffs, but he’s smiling too. “Oh, guys, this is Kurt.” Chandler gestures over at him.

 

“Hey, I’m Jeff,” the blonde guy says, reaching out to shake Kurt’s hand until he sees that Kurt’s hands are full.

 

“Nice to meet you,” Kurt responds.  He likes Jeff already even if he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s because he’s not Chandler.

 

The little dark-haired girl bounces up to him. “Hi. Sugar.  Not a stripper.”

 

Kurt looks her up and down, taking in her pink heels and her expensive dress.  “Hi. Kurt.  Not a Von Trapp.”

 

Sugar just blinks at him, but Kurt swears he hears someone nearby stifling a laugh.

 

“Hey Kurt, everything going okay so far?” Mr. Schuester asks, leaning out from the doorway of his office.

 

“Well, it’s been all of 10 minutes so…” Kurt trails off and he hears a snort from the assistants’ desks, the same voice as the laughter. He glances over, but no one is looking at them.  The guy with the black hair and nice shoulders seems to be smiling though, just a little, but that could be because of the email he’s staring at.

 

“Well, good,” Schuester says, nodding. “Let me know if you need anything. The other interns should be able to get you going today.”

 

Kurt’s pretty sure that’s _his_ job as office manager, but he’s not going to argue. Mr. Schuester sort of seems like he’s just holding on.  “Sounds good.”

 

“We’ve got the water for the large conference room,” Chandler tells Jeff and Sugar.  “Can you get it for the small?”

  
The other interns nod and disappear back into the kitchen. Kurt can’t help but wonder if Chandler is like this always – telling the others what to do even though they’re all on the same level.

 

“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

 

“On this side of the office we’ve got the partners of the company, Sue Sylvester and Isabelle Wright.  Sue has that big office in the corner.” Kurt looks over to the dark, empty office.  One whole wall is floor-to-ceiling windows and Kurt can see the Hollywood Hills off in the distance.

 

“If you hear yelling, it’s probably from her,” Chandler continues.  “Or Dustin. But he’s on the other side of the office.  Isabelle is here,” Chandler points to an open door one more office down.  “She’s a wonderful ray of sunshine and you won’t ever hear her yelling.  Between them is Holly Holliday – she’s the SVP.  She’s, well, you’ll see eventually.”

 

Kurt feels like he’s going to need a seating chart. Or a map.

 

“And these are their assistants.  Don’t piss any of them off or they’ll make your life unnecessarily hard.”

 

Kurt comes around to the row of desks that face the offices.  He looks down at the guy sitting in front of him, the one with the black hair.

 

“Blaine is Sue’s assistant.  He’s also the MP coordinator,” Chandler is saying, but Kurt hardly hears him because the guy is suddenly looking up and Kurt has completely forgotten where he is.  Or how to breathe.

 

He’s some kind of beautiful, with these big, hazel eyes that seem to be shining from somewhere deep down and smooth, warm-toned skin. His nose just a little crooked, his eyebrows are thick and almost ridiculous, and Kurt is pretty much done for in that singular moment.

 

“Hi,” Kurt breathes out.  His voice almost squeaks and Kurt can feel the blush flooding his cheeks, hot and embarrassing, but he can’t stop it. He didn’t think he really had a type, but he’s just been proven wrong.

 

“Hi,” Blaine says, smiling all soft and sweet. His voice is kind, but there’s a leading edge to it that Kurt can’t quite place.  If he were in a bar, Kurt might think he was _interested_ , and Kurt hopes he’s not reading this totally wrong.  “I’d shake your hand but,”

 

Kurt looks down at the water carafes. “Next time.”

 

“Oh god.  Nope.  No way.” A voice interrupts, startling Kurt.  “I’m not going to sit next to this.”  The girl seated next to Blaine, the one with the long hair and short skirt, is leaning back in her chair and holding her hands up. “I’m not going to be forced to watch Bambi and Thumper over here make doe eyes at each other for the next three months.  Not gonna happen.”

 

Kurt flushes even deeper, but Blaine just rolls his eyes.  “Whatever,” he says. “That’s Santana,” Blaine says to Kurt, by way of introduction.

 

“Holly’s assistant,” Santana adds, reaching out a manicured hand towards him.  “Stick with me and you’ll get out of here alive.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s entirely true,” Kurt responds and Santana just nods approvingly, one lovely eyebrow arched. “I like you,” she decides. “You can stay. But keep your fawning to a minimum. It’s going to make me nauseated and I can’t afford a second lunch on this salary.”

 

Chandler nudges Kurt’s elbow to keep them moving, but someone else walks into the office.  Kurt looks up out of habit.  The newcomer is tall, with a narrow face and sharp eyes.

 

“Good morning, Blaine,” the man says, looking directly at Blaine and no one else, and the back of Kurt’s neck itches. “Everyone else,” he casually throws out there, but his eyes stay on Blaine, even as he puts his bag down next to his chair and unbuttons his jacket.

 

“Sebastian is Isabelle’s assistant,” Chandler whispers to Kurt.  Sebastian suddenly looks away from Blaine and his eyes land on Kurt.  The look is instantly cold and appraising.

 

“Who are you?” He demands, just short of snidely.

 

“Kurt.”

 

“And what are you doing here?”  His green eyes rake up and down Kurt’s body and Kurt wants to turn away.  


“Sebastian,” admonishes Blaine.  He looks fondly exasperated with Sebastian and it makes Kurt’s mouth dry.  He knows – he can tell in that moment – that there’s something there between them. The water carafes are sweating in his hands and he’s suddenly worried about dropping them.  At least he wasn’t wrong about Blaine’s…preferences. That’s something.

 

Chandler touches Kurt’s elbow. “Come on,” he prompts. “Let’s get this finished up before everyone else gets here.”

 

“It was nice to meet you, Kurt,” Blaine offers as Kurt starts to walk away and Kurt’s mouth is dry for an entirely different reason.

 

“You too.”

 

Chandler introduces him to the other assistants and points out which agents are in which offices.  Kurt knows it’s going to take him a little while to remember everyone’s names, well, almost everyone’s.  The ICA staff seem relatively nice, that is except for some guy named Adam whose gaze lingered on Kurt a little too long, and Dustin, one of the agents, who was already yelling at someone over the phone.  His assistant, a pretty girl named Mercedes, had just rolled her eyes and grinned conspiratorially at Kurt.

 

Kurt spends the day learning the ropes of the agency instead of doing anything he might consider “real work.”  The interns share reception desk duties, rotating every couple hours so no one get stuck sitting up there alone all day. Kurt shadows Jeff for an hour, learning how to use the phone system and trying to get everyone’s names right as they walk in and out of the office.  And then he’s left alone for another hour.  It’s easy enough to do, he supposes, thought it puts his college education into sharp and taxing perspective.

 

It’s boring at the desk, and once he’s finished reading through the intern handbook, he’s grateful he’s allowed to have his laptop with him.  He spends the hour emailing his dad, letting him know his first day is going well and that he’ll call him later.  He doesn’t think about how much he misses his father.  There’s not much to do after that though, aside from answering the phone, and Kurt knows he’s not going to look forward to his shifts at reception.

 

When Kurt gets home he’s exhausted. He kicks his shoes off and doesn’t bother properly lining them up by the door before he collapses on the couch.  He’s hungry and he’s thirsty and pretty much just wants a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for dinner, except he doesn’t have the energy for either.  He’d have to stand back up for either of those things.

 

“How was the first day?”

 

Kurt cracks one eye open to find his roommate, Elliott, leaning out of his bedroom. “Long.”

 

Elliott lifts an eyebrow at him.  “Any cute boys?” He asks, grinning.

  
Kurt just groans and mashes his face back into the pillow as Elliott chuckles.

 

“Tell me about him,” Elliott knowingly prompts and Kurt hates him just a little.

 

“No.”  He’s thankful to have a roommate he can be himself with, but that doesn’t mean he wants to admit how much he likes Blaine already.  Or at least finds him attractive.  “Likes” is a strong word for someone he just met, even if he eyes are framed by absurd lashes and his waist curves in so sweetly. Kurt is fucked.

  
“There’s leftover Thai in the fridge, if you want it,” offers Elliott.

 

Kurt’s stomach grumbles in complaint at the mention of food.  “Have I told you lately you’re my favorite roommate?”

 

Elliott rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I’m your _only_ roommate.  Eat. You know how you get when you’re hungry.”

 

Kurt really can’t disagree with that. He rolls off the couch, groaning at the ache in his feet (he spent more time running around the office than he’d expected to), and shuffles towards the kitchen.  He’ll get a good dinner and a good night’s rest and that’s the best he can hope for.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt works three days a week at ICA, which leaves him with more than half the week empty.  He sort of wants to work full time at the agency, which has nothing to do with Blaine at _all_ , but three days is what he’s got for now.  And it’s not like they pay him anyway.  He supposes most internships are only part time, but that doesn’t keep him from itching for the sight of Blaine.

 

After he found out he’d only be working a few days a week, Kurt got a job tutoring French to some rich family’s obnoxious kid, because if he was going to live the Los Angeles cliché he might as well go all out. Now he can say that all those years of French classes are finally proving somewhat useful as he sits in a dining room just short of opulent and forces a young girl to conjugate verbs when he knows she’d rather be outside playing soccer.  Besides, he’s got bills to pay and rent to make. At least he’s not stuck behind the counter at a coffee shop – he makes enough coffee at the agency already. And the Beverly Hills family pays him more than a barista position ever would.  So it’s fine.  For now. It could be worse after all.

 

Tuesday he sleeps in, because he can. Elliott is already gone when Kurt finally pulls himself out of bed.  He has a full-time job at a production company in West Hollywood and he plays in a band at night and Kurt doesn’t know how he has the energy for it all. He makes a point to write Elliott’s shows down on the calendar, because he should at least go to a few of them.

 

The apartment is quiet as Kurt ambles into the kitchen, which is relief considering the single-pane windows of the old building and the distressingly loud street sweeping trucks that come by far too often. Kurt hums to himself as he pulls out the ingredients to make pancakes.  He won’t have time for much more than a bowl of cereal on the days he’s working at ICA so he might as well savor a proper breakfast when he can. And he finds cooking relaxing. It was something he shared with his mother.

 

Ohio is two hours ahead so Kurt calls his dad at work while he lets the first pancake cook to a nice golden brown. Pancakes don’t need his full attention.

 

“Hey, kid,” Burt greets warmly and just the sound of his voice resonating with perfect affection over two little words makes Kurt’s chest ache with homesick longing.

 

“Hey, dad.”

 

“How’re you doing?”

 

Kurt can hear the clanging and banging of the auto shop in the background and that makes him smile too, though his dad really should take a day off.  “I’m good.” He slides the pancake onto a plate and ladles more batter into the pan.

 

“What time is it?” Burt asks.  “Shouldn’t you be at that internship of yours?”

 

“It’s Tuesday.  I only work Monday-Wednesday-Friday there,” Kurt reminds him and he can just imagine his dad scratching his forehead ruefully.

 

“Well.  Good.  That’s good. So what are you up to today then?”

 

Kurt cradles in the phone with his shoulder as he talks to his dad.  He doesn’t have much to tell him, but the words spill out anyways.  His dad has always had a way of pulling the full story from him, even when maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it all. Kurt finds himself relating almost everything that happened the day before, about the agency and the other interns, though he keeps himself from ruminating about the exact shade of Blaine’s eyes.

 

He’s glad this time his dad doesn’t ask if he’s sure he knows what he’s doing in LA.

  
When he finally hangs up, long after the pancakes are eaten and the dishes are washed, he feels infinitely better.  He forgets, somehow, even now, that his dad is the last person left who almost always knows when he just needs to _talk_.

 

His tutoring session isn’t until the evening, so Kurt decides not to waste the entire day in his pajamas binge-watching “Orange is the New Black” and he gets dressed to go run some errands. He picks up enough groceries to last a solid couple of weeks, does the laundry that’s been piling up, and he does not wonder what pattern of tie Blaine might be wearing that day.

 

***

 

Kurt is right on time the next morning as he slips past the reception desk and into the office proper.  But he doesn’t even make it a couple of steps before a loud voice rings out across the quiet room.

 

“Holy jingle balls is it Christmas already? Why the hell is there an elf in my agency?  Did I hire an elf?  I think I would remember hiring an elf.”

 

Kurt freezes in his tracks. Sue Sylvester, one of the partners of the agency, is standing in the doorway of her office wearing a finely tailored business suit and a sour expression.  And she's looking right at him.  So are all the assistants.  Kurt’s mouth goes dry.

 

“Yes, you.  Santa’s brightly colored helper.” Sue waves her hand dismissively at him and Kurt looks down at his clothes.  He’s wearing slim cut black pants and red button-down shirt with a dark, conservative tie.  As far as he knows he’s perfectly within the company’s boring, conservative dress code, and besides, his far more interesting attire is back home in his closet waiting to be worn.

 

He opens his mouth to tell her as much when he’s interrupted.

 

"Don't pay her any mind," a much softer voice intones from over his shoulder.

 

Kurt twists to see another woman entering the office. She's elegant in a form fitting dress and expensive high heels with long, dark blonde hair and a kind, sympathetic face.

 

"Your shirt is marvelous,” she tells him as she touches his arm.  “Sue’s just in a mood because we had to have coffee with some execs over at Paramount this morning,” her voice dips to a conspiratorial tone and Kurt likes her immediately.

 

"Coffee is for enemas. Only the weak drink it from a cup," Sue proclaims before disappearing into her office.

 

"Isabelle Wright," the new woman introduces and Kurt shakes her hand.  Her manicure is perfect and her grip is firm.

 

"Kurt Hummel."

 

"We didn't have the pleasure of meeting your first day but I saw you. You do good work."

 

Kurt’s gently surprised.  “Oh. Thank you." He can't imagine anything he did deserved praise but he'll take it.  "I have to say,” he continues.  “I love your necklace."  If there’s anyone in this office he can compliment on their style, it’s this woman.

 

Isabelle smiles brightly. "Thank you! No one ever notices around here. But accessories are important."

 

"I notice," Sebastian abruptly interrupts, his voice a sharp shade of petulant, and Kurt had forgotten they were standing so near to his desk.

 

Isabelle rolls her eyes. "You're paid to notice." She looks back at Kurt. "Come to my office some time and we'll talk more okay?" She says to him and Kurt nods.

 

"Who do I owe?" Isabelle asks Sebastian as she walks into her office and Sebastian begins to list off names, though his eyes flicker to Kurt.

 

Swallowing and straightening his shoulders, Kurt heads to the intern area to finally put his bag down.  As he passes Sue’s office, Blaine looks up from his desk and smiles softly.

 

"Morning, Kurt."

 

His voice is low and private and Kurt thrills a little, but pushes it down. “Morning."

 

" _I_ like your shirt," Blaine says and Kurt can't keep himself from smiling through the embarrassment that Blaine heard what Sue said.

 

"Thank you. I, uh, I like your tie."

 

Today’s choice has little red embroidered lobsters on it and Kurt can't help but wonder what Blaine wears when he's not at work. His pants are perfectly fitted and his shirts are pressed and it’s all just a little too well put together for an assistant.

 

Blaine looks down at his tie, smoothing his hand over the fabric.  “Thanks! I know it’s a little…bright for this office.”  The way he says it tells Kurt more than he think Blaine meant to say.  “But I like it.  And so far no one has told me I can’t wear it, so…why not?”

 

Kurt nods.  _Why not_ is a question he’s got a million different answers too and none of them are right for this moment.

 

"Alpha Gay!" Sue suddenly barks from her office. "What's my lunch today?"

 

Blaine doesn't even look at his computer, keeping his eyes on Kurt. "You've got Hastings from Fox 2000.”

 

"Damn it,” Sue snaps.  Behind her, Kurt can see that she has an elliptical machine in her office.  “Fine. But make them come up here."

 

Blaine expression is oddly conspiratorial towards Kurt as he nods. "Can do.”

 

“And get me the updated slates from Warner Brothers and Disney.”

 

“Yep.”

 

Sue looks between Kurt and Blaine, leaving Kurt acutely embarrassed that he’s still standing there, but she sighs in disgust and picks up the phone.  “Keep off this call, Alpha Gay!” She yells out as she dials a number.

 

"Can she call you that?" Kurt asks quietly and Blaine just grins at him.

 

"Apparently."

 

“It doesn’t bother you?”

 

Blaine shrugs. “It’s not something I’m hiding around here,” he says.  “And she doesn’t say it out of meanness.”  Kurt lifts an eyebrow at Blaine, who rolls his eyes.  “Fine, yes.  She can be…less than pleasant, but she doesn’t hate how I am.  Her nicknames are the only way she knows how to express her lack of hatred.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Kurt points out and Blain just lifts a shoulder again.  And even though Kurt knew about Blaine, or was pretty sure he knew, it was still nice to hear it for certain.  Kurt knows it doesn’t really _mean_ anything, but it matters, somehow.

 

Kurt clears his throat, realizing he’s been standing there staring at Blaine for far too long.  “I should, you know-” He jerks his head towards the intern area. He doesn’t want Mr. Schuester to show up while he’s still chatting away with one of the assistants. He’s still trying to make a good impression here, for what it’s worth.

 

Blaine blinks, like he hadn’t realized they were in the middle of the agency.  “Oh, yeah.  Right. Well, maybe I’ll talk to you later?”  There’s a hope in the corners of his eyes that has Kurt nodding even though he knows it doesn’t mean anything, not the way he wishes it could.  But his agreement has Blaine smiling that soft, perfect smile and Kurt feels it blooming bright in his stomach.

  
He’s so screwed and it’s only his second day.

 

Kurt is finally setting up his laptop at the intern desk when Chandler comes out of the kitchen.  He hadn’t even realized the other guy was already there, though he’s coming to understand that Chandler is the kind of intern who’s always going to be the first in the door in the morning.

 

"Well hey there, Kurt!” Chandler greets. He’s wearing a loose scarf even though Kurt’s pretty sure that’s against dress code.  Kurt gets the feeling Chandler never gets reprimanded by Mr. Schuester.  “The coffee’s brewing," Chandler says, with an obnoxious amount of pride. "Do you want to get the water for the conference rooms?"

 

Kurt nods even though the answer is no. He's only done it once so far and he hates it already.  It means walking past all the agents and assistants while carrying two symbols of his lowly status. Even if it’s true, even if he’s the very last man on the totem bowl, he doesn’t really want to shout it from the rooftops.

 

Pride is a strange and difficult beast.

 

***

 

Kurt has several projects that keep him busy over the week. Nothing terribly exciting, just looking up credits for potential clients and researching some film festivals for one of the agents.  He gets picked to go on a run out to the Paramount lot to pick up some screeners, which means he gets to leave the office for a good hour.  It’s nice to get out, even if it means sitting in his car in traffic.  The sun coming through the walls of windows often brightly lights the office, but it’s not the same as being outside.

 

Mr. Schuester tells him that he's going to start shadowing some of the assistants in the next weeks, to get a sense of what they do day-to-day, and Kurt spends the rest of the afternoon sneaking peeks at the back of Blaine's head and worrying.

 

He has no reason to like him.  Except he _does_. It’s there already, the fluttering in his stomach at the sound of Blaine’s voice and they way his ears heat up whenever Blaine smiles at him.  And there too is a bitter taste at the back of his throat whenever he sees Sebastian talking to Blaine, standing near him with his hand resting casually on Blaine’s shoulder, like it belongs there.  Blaine doesn’t shrug him off and Kurt has to assume he wants the touch, that it’s familiar to him.

 

Kurt wants to shake it off, to tamp down every bird-wing fluttering in his chest at the sight of Blaine’s strong-boned wrists. He’d already spent so much of college crushing on guys who never gave him half a minute of time or a spare glance and he can’t do it again.  He won’t. He can’t keep hoping that someone might finally notice him over the rest of the world.  And he didn’t come to Los Angeles to start a relationship.

 

But then there is Blaine, the assistant whom he hardly knows beyond a name and a smile.  Blaine who makes a point to say _hi_ to him and ask him how he’s doing.  Most of the other assistants are nice enough.  Santana seems to like him in her own strange way and Mercedes chatted with him a little during his turn at the reception desk late in the afternoon.   He doesn’t have much to do with the others.  Emma Pillsbury’s assistant, Adam, tends to leer at him whenever Kurt wants by and Kurt does what he can to ignore him, despite his endearing British accent. Kurt’s too old to be taken in by a nice accent.  Now.

 

Of course there’s Sebastian.  Kurt knows enough to know that it’s best to not get on that assistant’s bad side.  Sebastian isn’t openly hostile towards him, but he does work for one of the partners of the company and Kurt knows what position that puts him in. He also knows there’s something between Blaine and Sebastian, even if he doesn’t know _what_ , and even if the sheer thought of _them_ makes his stomach churn.  But he pushes that down too and nods hello to Sebastian and does not get in his way.  It’s not worth it any other way.

 

It's Friday when Kurt suddenly finds himself alone with Blaine.

 

He’s in the kitchen brewing a fresh pot of coffee even thought it’s late in the afternoon because they’ve got a big new client signing meeting at 4 o’ clock.  Kurt kind of likes the kitchen – it’s quiet and usually no one else is back there. The assistants tend to scramble from the office for their lunch hour and the agents almost always have lunch meetings.  Kurt’s always been comfortable in a kitchen.  It used to bother him, especially in college when his dorm-mates would make crude and crass comments about him in an apron.  He’d ignored them best he could, but words are words and sometimes there was no way to drown them out.  But kitchens remind him of his mom, of baking cookies and cooling pies, and jackass comments from people he’ll never see again can’t erase that.

 

Kurt is lost in thought as he measures out spoonfuls of coffee grounds and he doesn’t hear anyone else step into the back room.

 

“Hey, Kurt.”

 

Kurt startles and almost drops the bag of coffee all over the counter. “Blaine, hi.”

 

He’s standing a lot closer than Kurt expected, leaning a hip against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing another nice, dark suit with a maroon tie.  Kurt likes it. It’s elegant and the color looks good against his rich skin.

 

“Thought I might catch you in here,” Blaine says. He’s always a little smaller than Kurt remembers, but tightly muscled if the bulging of his biceps against the fabric of his shirt is any indication, or the flex of his thighs through his tailored pants.

 

“You caught me,” Kurt replies and then he bites his lip against the flood of embarrassment at how it must have sounded.

 

“So, how’s your first week going?” asks Blaine. “I know we don’t get a lot of chances to really talk.”

 

Kurt shrugs.  “You guys are all so busy and I don’t want to interrupt.” The number of times Kurt has already awkwardly stood next to an assistant for agonizing minutes waiting to get their attention is frustrating, but there’s nothing he can do about it.

 

“But still,” prompts Blaine and there’s nothing Kurt can do about that either.

 

“It’s uhm, it’s going well,” he says. “Sue called me a _gelphling_ and _Little Orphan Snow Boy_ earlier, which doesn’t even make any sense and really mixes movie metaphors, but there you go.”

 

Blaine laughs and Kurt’s stomach tightens a little. “Yeah, she’s-”

 

Suddenly his laugh dies away and he holds a finger up to Kurt while he touches something near his ear.  “Sue Sylvester’s office,” he says in a friendly, conversational voice so different from the one he was just using with Kurt, and Kurt realizes that Blaine is wearing a Bluetooth headset.

 

Kurt looks away and busies himself with finally getting the coffee grounds into the pot and the water poured in.  He does actually have a job to do that involves more than staring into Blaine’s ridiculously hued eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” Blaine continues.  “I don’t have Sue right now but we’ll return. Yes, we have your number. Great.  Thanks.”

 

There’s a pause and Kurt peeks over in time to see Blaine tapping at his ear again.  “Sorry about that,” Blaine apologizes, thick eyebrow flattening in contrition.

 

Kurt shakes his head. “No, god, it’s fine. That’s your job.”

 

“It is indeed,” Blaine sighs and Kurt wants to ask him so many things.

 

He wants to ask him what that means, why he sighed like that.  He wants to know what he’s even doing there, at this agency, in this town.  Hell, he even wants to ask Blaine where’s he’s from to start, but right as he’s about to open his mouth Blaine gets another call.

  
“Sue Sylvester’s office.  Oh hey, Jake.  Let me see if I can get her for you.  One sec.”

 

Blaine looks at Kurt with eyes that are hugely apologetic as he mouths _I’m sorry_ and leaves the kitchen.

 

When he’s out of sight, Kurt turns back around and grips the counter top with both hands and breathes in deeply.  Blaine’s cologne is lingering in the air and Kurt wonders if the counter is still warm from Blaine’s body heat where he was leaning against in.

 

Kurt bows his head.  He is so completely fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning Kurt wakes up early, laces up his sneakers, and goes for a run.

 

He started running after his mom died. He hadn’t meant to; the first time he’d run was simply to get away from everyone bringing food and flowers and cloying condolences to the house.  The pounding of his feet against the pavement, the sharp burning in his chest as he’d struggled for breath, and the jarring of his bones from his awkward, untrained gait somehow cleared his head.

 

His dad had suggested it, but Kurt had never bothered joining the track team, either in high school or in college. The point was never competition. He just liked to run, liked the clarity it left with him afterwards, when he was coated in sweat and trying to bring his heart rate back down.  He could think about things other than the empty space in the house left by his mother.

 

And after that first, long week at ICA and Blaine, Kurt needs a little perspective.

 

His apartment is close enough to the beginning slopes of the Hollywood Hills that he doesn’t bother driving and parking; he just grabs his phone, his iPod, and a bottle of water, and slips out into the still cool morning.

 

The sidewalks are empty and the streets mostly so as Kurt makes his way down Franklin.  He keeps his pace slow and easy, warming up and stretching out his muscles. It’s been almost a month since he gave himself the time for this and he can feel it in the way his calves are taking longer than usual to loosen up.  But he finds his rhythm, matching breath for step and lengthening his strides.

 

He turns up Beachwood Drive, keeping his pace steady because he knows it’s a long hill all the way up to the true start of the trail and he doesn’t want to wear himself out too soon.

 

It’s been four months since Kurt packed up his car and moved from Ohio to Los Angeles and it still doesn’t feel like he lives there. His mail comes to the apartment and he updated his billing address, but he hasn’t even bothered to change his license or registration.  He doesn’t know what it is that’s holding him back.  It’s not like he’s going to move back to Lima anytime soon, even if his dad is still living there.

 

Kurt passes by a car that has a Washington license plate and another with Illinois and is comforted somewhat that he’s likely not the only one in the city who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing there.

  
He’s dripping sweat and panting by the time he pushes up the steep curve leading to the start of the trail that will take him up to the Hollywood sign. It’s warmer now and there are more people here – tourists looking for that classic photo op and the LA version of  “outdoorsy” types telling themselves that the gentle slope of the trail counts as “hiking.”

 

Kurt slows to a walk, hand on his hip as he gives himself a moment to catch his breath, take a sip of water, and shake out his legs. He feels better already, the tension in his shoulders giving way to the gentle strain in his thighs and the tightness in his chest that had settled there the moment he saw Blaine easing into the soft, familiar ache of his lungs stretching for more air. He has a goal though and the day is only getting warmer.

 

It’s not far to the viewing point beneath the Hollywood sign and the trail has too many people on it to really run, but Kurt pushes up the sandy path as quickly as he can without being one of those rude, asshole runners who go too fast in an area not really cut out for it.

 

He pauses at a slight outcropping to take a couple of pictures of the scenery – his dad’s been asking to see where Kurt lives. It’s oddly beautiful, the red sandy rock and the green trees that manage to take root and grow between then. In the distance, downtown Los Angeles rises from the chaotic sprawl that is the city.  Kurt thinks about home and about the time he and his dad visited New York for Christmas a few years after his mom died, and how the tallest building in Lima would get swallowed up in the shadow of the smallest high rise in New York.

 

There’s a large, fairly flat area underneath the iconic sign and Kurt watches as people take photographs of themselves in front of it. It’s endearing, in a way, the friends and families and couples commemorating the morning for their own reasons. Kurt finds it strangely fitting that if he turns around, there’s a huge house behind a gate and an expensive car in a driveway.  There are many different ways to get to the top.

 

He thinks he probably should take a few pictures too, for his dad.  Kurt wants him to come visit, but in the meantime the least he can do is send him a new photo for his cluttered desk at the garage.

 

Kurt is trying to get the angle just right, stretching his arm out and struggling to position his head so the sign can still be seen in the background, when a man approaches him.

 

“Hey, do you want me to do that for you?” He asks, gesturing to Kurt’s phone.  The man looks to be in his late 20s, with dark hair and slightly rounded cheeks.  He’s wearing running shorts and a tank top that’s damp with sweat and clinging to the planes of his abdomen.

 

“Oh, uhm, sure.  Thanks.”  Kurt cautiously hands the man his phone.  He figures there are enough people around that if this guy tries to steal it someone could probably take him down.

 

The man smiles brightly.  “Awesome.  Okay, just stand right there,” he holds the phone up and Kurt can’t help but look at the flex of his bicep.  “All right. 1…2…3…”

 

Kurt hopes his smile is less of a grimace than it feels.

  
“There we go,” the man says, handing him the phone back. “It looks good.”

 

Kurt peers at the image and doesn’t totally disagree. He’s sweaty and pink, but he looks almost happy.  “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

“You look good,” the man clarifies, hesitating just slightly between the words, and Kurt looks up.

 

 _Oh_.

 

“Uhm, are you heading up behind the sign?” He asks.  He’s good looking, Kurt knows, with his strong jaw and white smile.

 

 _Oh_ , Kurt thinks again.

 

It couldn’t hurt, continuing up the longer path. And not just for the extra exercise. In his four months in the city he hasn’t made too many friends, his roommate notwithstanding., and he certainly hasn’t gone on anything approaching a date, though he hasn’t really had the urge.  And this guy seems nice enough, given the whole two minutes Kurt has been around him. The invitation is right there.

 

But then he thinks about Blaine and the warmth in Blaine’s bright eyes when he looks at Kurt.  And he knows it doesn’t mean anything.  That he’s just another intern blowing through the agency and he’ll be forgotten almost as soon as he walks out the door for the last time. But he can’t help it. Blaine is under his skin and he doesn’t really want to dig him out.

 

“Sorry,” Kurt demurs.  “I’m actually headed back down.”

 

The man’s face falls and for a fleeting moment Kurt regrets the lie, but then he remembers Blaine’s laughter and the lobsters patterned on his tie.

 

“Well, maybe I’ll se you up here another day?”

 

“Yeah, definitely!” Kurt nods, falsely cheerful. He has no doubt that would be horribly awkward.  “Thank you for the picture.”

 

The man waves a hand, turns away, and steps into a job, heading higher up the hillside.  Away from Kurt.  Kurt watches his long legs and his easy stride and knows he’s a fucking idiot.

 

Kurt looks back at the photo on his phone. There’s room enough for another head in the frame.  He sighs and texts the photo to his dad, who will probably call him to ask about it. He turns the volume of his iPod up and makes his way back down to the main trail.  Maybe next time he’ll take the longer path up higher.

 

***

 

The week is uneventful in the way Kurt knows that every week working in an office can become if he’s not careful.  He gets up, he goes to work, and he tries not to blush too much when Blaine says good morning to him as he walks past his desk. It is what it is.

 

His tutoring sessions have hit a frustrating snag, as his student has suddenly decided that she resents the implication that she needs help with her French, despite the fact that she desperately does. Kurt spends most of the two-hour lesson fruitlessly trying to get her to work through her conjugations only to have Hayley almost completely ignore him.  Kurt knows it has nothing to do him, not really, that Hayley would rather be on the soccer field, but it still breeds frustration all throughout the room. He leaves so angry he has to sit in his car, gripping the steering wheel and breathing deeply, before he feels like he can safely drive home.  It doesn’t matter though; he’s still getting paid for it.

 

On Friday he sits in on a training lunch for the assistants at ICA.  He, Chandler, Jeff, and Sugar hover in the back of the conference room while the assistants gather around the large table to listen to a couple of the agents give a presentation.  Kurt can’t say he pays much attention to what’s going on, not when Blaine and Sebastian are directly in his line of sight.

 

Sebastian had strolled into the meeting and sat himself down next to Blaine as though he belonged there, sitting in the seat that Kurt had noticed the other assistants left open.  Kurt also noticed the pointed look Sebastian had briefly thrown his way before he’d turned his attention away.  Kurt had swallowed and tried not to care.

 

He spends the hour staring blankly at the video screen and not hearing a damn thing.

 

Kurt goes home that night and makes three batches of cookies and eats half a dozen on his own.  And when Elliott gets in, he takes one look at Kurt – splayed out on the couch with crumbs on his lap watching _The Food Network_ – and silently joins him. Sometimes Kurt really adores his roommate.

 

***

 

On Monday, Kurt is just getting set up for the day when he hears his name called.

 

“Hey, Kurt,” Mr. Schuester says from the doorway of his office.  “Can you come in here for a minute?”

 

Despite how innocuous the question is, Kurt still feels that pang of nerves in his gut that somehow he might have done something wrong and he’s about to get reprimanded for it.

 

“Yeah, Mr. Schue?” His boss is wearing yet another sweater-vest (the fifth different one by Kurt’s count) and Kurt can’t help but press his lips together to stop a sneer.

 

“Today we’re going to have you shadow Blaine,” he says and Kurt’s stomach tightens for a completely different set of reasons.

 

“Oh.  Okay.”

 

“It’s a thing we like all of our interns to do,” Schue continues, somewhat distractedly.   He’s shuffling papers around his desk like he’s looking for something and Kurt realizes he really doesn’t know what the hell Schue does all day. “We want you guys to get a real look into what the assistants do and how the agency really works. Check with Blaine to make sure it’s a good time first, though.”

 

Kurt nods and his mouth is so dry.  “How long am I supposed to sit with him?” He asks.

 

“Oh, just a couple of hours,” Schue casually responds and Kurt nearly gulps.  He has no idea how he’s going to get through this.  Two minutes alone in the kitchen with Blaine leaves him feeling out of breath and wild.

 

“Okay.” Kurt backs out of Mr. Schuester’s office and his eyes immediately track to Blaine.  He’s writing something down on a pad of paper and Kurt can’t stop looking at the bared skin of his wrist.

 

Kurt straightens his shoulders, grabs a pen and a notebook from the intern desk, and cautiously approaches Blaine, heart pounding stupidly hard in his throat. “Uhm, Blaine?”

 

Blaine twists towards him slightly, smiling in that way he has, but he holds a finger up.  Kurt snaps his jaw shut.

 

“Hi, yes,” Blaine says, voice pitched into what Kurt is realizing his ‘business conversation’ tone.  “I’m calling to set a reservation for 8 o’clock tonight.  For two. Yes, tonight.  I know.  My boss is entertaining a very important client and she had such a memorable experience the last time she was at your establishment that this was her first and only choice.  Oh you can? That would be perfect. Thank you so much.”

 

Blaine hangs up and twists in his chair. He’s wearing a charcoal suit today with a skinny lavender tie and Kurt can just tell how expensive it is.  His own suit is a couple years old and while it’s still nice, still acceptable for the agency, it doesn’t hold up to what Blaine comes to work wearing, or Sebastian for that matter.

 

“Sorry about that,” Blaine apologizes, completely unnecessarily.  “What’s up?”

 

“I’m supposed to shadow you today,” Kurt explains, feeling ridiculous holding his pad of paper and pen.

 

Blaine’s expression brightens.  “Oh yeah?  Great.” He says it like he means it. “Pull up a chair.”

  
Kurt grabs one of the intern chairs and wheels it over to Blaine’s desk. He ends up sitting close enough to smell the faint tang of Blaine’s cologne (something with sandalwood) and whatever it is he puts in his hair.  Kurt could move away a bit, put some space between them, but he doesn’t want to.  And Blaine isn’t shifting away.

 

“Have you shadowed anyone else before?” Blaine asks.

 

“You’re my first,” responds Kurt and even as the words are coming out of his mouth he wants to take them back.

 

“Oh god, no,” Santana says from beside Blaine. “Am I really going to have to sit here while the two of you flirt for under the pretext of work? No way.”  She leaning back in her chair with her long legs crossed and Kurt’s doesn’t know how she gets away with the length of her dresses.

 

Kurt flushes and does not look past Santana to where he knows Sebastian is staring at him.  Blaine just presses his lips together to stop what is undoubtedly a smile, but Kurt swears the tips of his ears are pink.

 

“So, I guess I’ll just kind of explain my job here,” Blaine continues, seemingly ignoring Santana.  He must be used to her by now.  “What we do day-to-day.  The kinds of tasks and responsibilities we’ve got.  I’ll definitely show you scheduling and how the phones work because that’s pretty much the most important thing you’ve got to do as an assistant.  Does that sound good?”

 

Kurt’s been staring at the full curve of Blaine’s mouth as he talked and he ends up nodding dumbly in response.  There’s no point in telling Blaine that he has absolutely no interest in becoming an assistant and that he’s only there because he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

“Sounds good,” Kurt parrots, struggling not to stare into Blaine’s utterly ridiculous eyes.  The urge is too compelling though, and Kurt finds himself constantly looking up.  The fact that more often than not Blaine is looking right back at him makes his stomach flip and sweat gather in the small of his back.

 

He spends two hours with Blaine, sitting close enough their knees bump under the desk and their shoulders brush as they shift in their chairs.  Kurt doesn’t particularly care about the finer points of setting meetings and lunches, or how to properly catalogue submissions, but he does care about the timbre of Blaine’s voice, and how it drops deeper the more Blaine talks.  Kurt finds himself staring at the dark hair at Blaine’s wrist and the shadow of his stubble along his jaw.  Kurt is fascinated by the way Blaine’s five o’clock shadow starts coming in about noon and wonders what lies beneath the perfect collar of his pressed shirts.

 

The job seems easy enough, but it’s constant. The phone keeps ringing; emails keep coming.  Sue yells from her office about anything and everything until Isabelle or Holly goes in there to calm her down.  Kurt kind of loves the way the three utterly different women have found a way to run a business together. Blaine takes it all in stride, working efficiently and still managing to teach Kurt along the way.

 

But Kurt wants to know more.  He wants to know what brought Blaine here, to this job, this agency, this strange town.  He feels like there’s a story there, in the shadows that are sometimes under his eyes and the way his ties are the most colorful things about him. Except his eyes. Kurt has seen the bright and obnoxious shirts that Chandler gets away with, and Jeff’s propensity for patterned socks.  Some Fridays one the agents, Dustin, comes in wearing a leather jacket.  So it’s not like there’s a terribly hard and fast rule against interesting clothes, as long as they meet the professional dress code.

 

Kurt knows Blaine has a story to tell, he just doesn’t know what it is.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Kurt edges, when there’s a slight pause in the flow of work.

  
Blaine sits back in his chair, spinning towards Kurt.  “Of course.”  He crosses his legs and Kurt’s eyes are inexorably drawn to the tug of his pants across his muscled thighs.

 

“What are you doing here?” Kurt asks, swallowing down his nerves.  “I mean, here, in LA.”

 

Something Kurt can’t name passes across Blaine’s face. “Oh.  Yeah.  That’s-”

 

Whatever Blaine is about to say gets cut off by Santana.  “Wait,” she exclaims, loud enough that Kurt knows other people in the office turn to look at them. “Are you telling me you don’t know about Blaine’s family dynasty?”  


“Santana.”  There’s a hard note of warning in Blaine’s voice Kurt’s never heard before, but it doesn’t stop her.

 

Kurt looks between Santana, who has an eyebrow lifted at him, and Blaine, who is glaring at Santana. “What?”

 

“Oh my god.  Seriously?  Tell me you know about the Anderson Company,” Santana says.

 

Kurt frowns, glancing back over to Blaine, whose jaw is set tight enough that Kurt can see the strained muscles fluttering under the skin. “Like, the studio?”

 

Santana flicks one fine-boned hand towards Blaine. “Daddy’s made some of the biggest movies in the last 20 years,” she explains.  Beyond her, when Kurt quickly peeks, Sebastian is resolutely staring at his computer screen, pointedly ignoring them all.

 

“Oh,” Kurt exhales, suddenly understanding, a little like lightning.  “Your family is…so, that means your brother…”

 

Blaine nods curtly.  His shoulders are pulled taught beneath his suit jacket and his cheeks are red underneath his tan.  Kurt wants to take his hand and tell him not to be so uncomfortable. Blaine’s brother is an actor and his father owns a major studio and he’s apparently just an assistant at a small agency.  Kurt knows there’s something more so it – that this is the story he was looking for – but he’s not going to pry.  Not then. Not in the middle of the office with a dozen pairs of ears listening in.  He hadn’t meant to make Blaine so uncomfortable. He hadn’t known, but he wants to understand.

 

Taking a breath, Kurt angles himself back towards the computer.  “Can you show me the submission process again?” He asks and he can hear Blaine sigh in relief. “I want to be sure I’ve got it down in case there’s a test.”

 

Blaine smiles and Kurt feels the grateful press of Blaine’s knee against his own.

 

No one brings Blaine’s family up again for the rest of the day, but that doesn’t stop Kurt from thinking about it. And when Kurt leaves the agency that night, Blaine reaches out to touch his elbow and whispers _thank you_.


	4. Chapter 4

Friday afternoon Chandler corners him at the intern desk.  It’s been a decent day, if not a long week.  He’s mostly been filling out expense reports for the agents and researching unrepresented directors.  He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Blaine and his family and what that might all mean. Though Blaine’s clothes – and the cerulean silk tie he’s wearing that day – make a lot more sense now.

 

“You should come out with us tonight,” Chandler says, leaning way too close into Kurt’s space.  “The other interns are all going to meet up at this bar up on Wilshire. It’ll be fun, especially if _you’re_ there.”

 

Kurt swallows back his immediate retort. The last thing he wants to do is spend time with Chandler outside of work. Jeff and Sugar are fine, but the thought of getting trapped at a bar with Chandler almost makes his lip curl. Kurt is waiting for Chandler to get tired of flirting with him and just straight up ask him out. At least that other assistant, Adam, is mostly too busy to bother him, even if his leering and _compliments_ about Kurt’s pants are obnoxious and unwanted.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt demurs, trying to conceal just how much he doesn’t want to do that. “I’d love to, but I can’t.”

 

“Got a hot date?” Chandler teases, but his tone isn’t teasing at all, and Kurt wants to tell him to fuck off.

 

“Not exactly.  My roommate’s band is playing tonight.  I told him I’d come.”  Kurt realizes his mistake as soon as he says it and he bites the inside of his cheek.  He has no way of keeping Chandler from coming to the show himself.  Luckily, Chandler just offers him an exaggerated pout.

 

“Aww, that’s too bad.  Maybe next time.”

 

“Yeah,” Kurt nods. “Definitely.”  He’s _never_ going to go out with Chandler, as friends or otherwise.

 

“I’m going to go remake the coffee,” Chandler announces, loud enough Kurt knows Mr. Schuester will hear him from his office, before he flounces off towards the kitchen and Kurt breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“That was smooth,” comes a voice and Kurt startles. Blaine is standing on the other side of the intern desk and he’s smiling at him.

 

Kurt blushes. “Oh, I…yeah,” he stutters. “I just didn’t-”

 

Blaine holds his hands up.  He looks relaxed, but cautious. They haven’t spoken much the last couple of days.  Kurt’s not avoiding him, not exactly, and he realizes Blaine has sort of being doing the same to him.  “No need to explain to me.  So, your roommate is in a band?”

 

Kurt nods. “Yeah, they’re actually pretty good. I try to go to his shows when I can.  Moral support and all.”

 

“Awfully nice of you.”

 

“Do you want to come?” The question is asked before Kurt even knew he was thinking it.  He needs to learn to control these things.

 

“Sure!” Blaine agrees almost immediately and Kurt’s mouth goes dry.

 

“Great,” he says, a little faintly. “Uhm, it’s at 9. At the Mint.  There are some other bands playing too, so, there should be something you like.”

 

Blaine looks like he wants to say something more, but all he says is, “Perfect.  I love that place.  I’ll meet you there after work?”

 

Kurt nods and it feels like it’s all he’s capable of doing. “Okay.”

  
Blaine taps his fingers against the desk.  “Great,” he agrees, somewhat awkwardly, before he heads back over to his own chair.  Kurt glances surreptitiously over at him – he can’t help it.  He watches as Santana playfully punches Blaine in the shoulder as Blaine sits down, but next to her, Sebastian is glaring right back at him.

 

Kurt narrows his eyes.  He’s getting tired of Sebastian’s attitude towards him. He doesn’t know what the fuck kind of problems Sebastian has with him and he really doesn’t care. He has bigger things to worry about, like spending the evening with Blaine.

  
***

 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. All he can think about is what he and Blaine are going to talk about outside of work, never mind that bands are going to be playing and there really won’t be a chance for conversation. Kurt is glad he chose his nicest suit for the day, even if it will make him stand out at the bar. Blaine is going to be wearing one of his expensive outfits and Kurt doesn’t wanted to feel even more out of place next to him than he knows he already will.  He’d come to realize about a week after moving to LA that only agents wore suits regularly, and that if he ever saw someone walking around in a suit they were very likely an agent or someone on the way to an interview.

 

He gets held up in the last few minutes of the day and he waves Blaine on when it looks like Blaine is going to wait for him. It gives him a few moments to collect himself before he grabs his laptop, says goodbye to Mr. Schuester, who is still in his office, and walks 10-minutes to his car.  He’s proud he still hasn’t gotten a parking ticket.

 

When Kurt gets to the Mint, Blaine is already at the bar, nursing a darkly colored drink.  He seems completely oblivious to the tall, sandy-haired man next to him who keeps looking his way, and his eyes find Kurt as soon as he walks in.

 

“Hey!” Blaine stands up from his stool when Kurt approaches.

 

“Sorry I’m a little late,” apologizes Kurt.

 

“It’s okay.  You’re here now.”  It feels like Blaine is going to hug him, but he hesitates, poised on his toes with an odd, restrained look on his face.

 

Kurt bites his lip and then the bullet and he quickly surges in, wrapping one arm around Blaine’s broad shoulders and squeezing him once.  This close Blaine smells like warm skin and a little sweat and the last lingering traces of cologne from the morning.  He smells good and Kurt briefly closes his eyes before he draws back.

  
“Can I get you a drink?” Blaine asks.  His free hand is hovering near Kurt’s elbow like he wants to touch him, but can’t quite.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” protests Kurt.

 

Blaine shrugs, leaning in a little closer to Kurt. “I know.  I want to. You got my ticket for the show after all. That was a nice surprise when I got here, by the way.  The least I can do is get you a drink.”

 

Kurt blushes a little.  He hadn’t exactly paid for the ticket; he’d just had Elliott put them both on the list of guests, but if Blaine is going to insist on buying him a drink, Kurt will take it.

 

“Fine,” he agrees, but his stomach in twisting up in knots.  The last drink a guy bought him ended when Kurt didn’t want to go into the disgusting bathroom with him.  He doesn’t have a lot of fond memories of college, but he thinks this is going to be different.

 

“Good,” Blaine says.  “What’s your drink of choice?”

 

What Kurt wants is a Cosmopolitan, but it doesn’t look like _that_ kind of bar and Blaine seems like someone who might order a Scotch neat.

 

“Uhm, I guess just a rum and Coke,” Kurt responds. It’s not his favorite, but it’ll do.  He tries not to feel like he just failed at something.

  
Blaine smiles in a way that can only be described as flirtatious. “Coming right up.” He twists back to get the bartender’s attention and Kurt finds himself admiring the line of his back, the shallow dip of his spine, and the smooth curves of muscle visible through the thin fabric of his shirt.  Kurt doesn’t know where Blaine left his suit jacket, but he’s glad he did.

 

He looks good like this, stretched out over the bar counter, with his forearms bared by the rolled up sleeves of his shirt and his hair coming loose from its styling.  Kurt wants to know what he looks like in the morning, before he’s showered and dressed, when his skin is flushed with sleep and his hair is a mess. Kurt thinks his hair must be wild and that the rest of him might be too – that the man who sits at the desk every day is not the man sitting restless at the bar.  Kurt wants to know who that other man is.

 

Kurt jumps, startled out of his reverie, when a heavy hand claps him on the shoulder.

 

“Jesus, Elliott!” He exclaims when he sees just who is standing next to him.

 

“Hey, you came!”  Elliott is already dressed for the show, eyes darkened with liner and wearing pants tighter than even Kurt likes.

 

Kurt rolls his eyes.  “Told you I would.”

  
Elliott slings a casual arm around Kurt’s shoulders.  “Yeah, yeah, but I know how that place works you.”

 

Kurt shrugs, but it’s true.  He’s often not home until after 8pm on the nights he’s working at ICA.  It’s not like he’s got much else to do, aside from his tutoring sessions and his marathoning of _Master Chef_ , so he doesn’t really mind.  It does cut into the time he has to cook a decent dinner though.

 

Kurt suddenly feels gentle fingers on his elbow and he turns to find Blaine looking at him, and Elliott, curiously.

 

“Your drink?” He holds up Kurt’s glass with a slight tilt to his head and eyes that are narrowed every so slightly and Kurt swallows down the feeling that he just got caught doing something he shouldn’t.

 

He slips out from under Elliott’s arm and accepts the drink, not keeping his fingers from brushing against Blaine’s. He doesn’t owe Blaine anything, but he still needs Blaine to understand.

 

“Thanks,” he says, looking right into Blaine’s eyes, and some unnamed tension in Blaine’s shoulders seeps out as he slowly smiles. Kurt feels a surge of something like hope inside him.  He’s so very fucked that he might as well ride it out.

 

“Any time,” murmurs Blaine.

 

“And who is this?” Elliott asks, voice silky and teasing as his eyes rake up and down Blaine’s body, and Kurt blushes again. Elliott, who never wants for companionship, is going to be insufferable about this, Kurt just knows.

 

“Elliott, this is Blaine,” Kurt introduces. “We work together. Blaine, Elliott’s my roommate.”

 

Blaine immediately offers his hand to Elliott, though Kurt catches how Blaine’s gaze flickers to him first.  Kurt wishes he knew Blaine better to be able to guess at what he might be thinking.  “Nice to meet you, Elliott.”

 

“Likewise.  Thanks for coming to the show.  I hope you dig it.”

 

“I’m sure I will.  Kurt invited me, so I had to come.”  Blaine knocks his shoulder against Kurt’s and Kurt definitely doesn’t miss the way Elliott smirks.

  
“Did he now?  That’s…excellent.”  Elliott grins brightly.  “I gotta go talk to a couple of people before our set, but I’ll catch you two later?”

 

Kurt nods and Elliott steps away from them, but not before throwing the most obvious wink at Kurt, one that Blaine could never miss. Damn him anyway.

 

“So…he’s your roommate?” Blaine questions, the stress of his cadence landing solidly on the last word and Kurt knows he’s looking at Elliott’s leather pants and knee-high boots.

 

“ _Just_ my roommate,” Kurt clarifies.  He doesn’t know why he bothers.  He’s sure Blaine has no interest in him.  Except, sometimes, he’s not so sure.  The way Blaine reacted to Elliott gave Kurt pause and the way he seeks Kurt out at work just to say hi makes him wonder.

 

Blaine nods and his lips twitch like he’s hiding trying to hide a smile.  “He seems…cool.”

 

Kurt glances across room to see Elliott laughing with a small girl with blue hair.  “He doesn’t always dress like this.  Just for shows.”

 

“I like it,” Blaine takes a sip from his own drink – something amber colored – and Kurt is suddenly gut-punched by the aching want to know the taste of it off Blaine’s lips.  He takes a drink from his own glass to give himself something else to focus on and he catches Blaine following the movement. The night is going to be very long.

 

They move away from the bar and step off to the side, away from the growing crowd.  The first band is taking the stage and people are gathering in the middle.

 

“Are you hungry?” Blaine asks.  “Do you want to grab a table?”

 

Kurt shakes his head.  “I’ve been sitting all day; I’d actually rather stand. If that’s okay?” His stomach is too full of nerves for him to eat anything.

 

“No, that’s fine,” Blaine agrees.  “The job is okay, but _fuck_ does it suck to sit all the time.”

 

Kurt startles to hear the word fall from Blaine’s lips. He’s usually so proper, so put-together at the office that the word is a shock.  It sounds good, though.  The hard consonant of it and the way Blaine’s head bobs as he says it. Kurt swallows down the want to hear him say it under completely different circumstances.

 

“We should get those standing desks,” Kurt says. “You know, the ones that have a treadmill attached, so you can walk and work at the same time.”

 

Blaine laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Oh god, _sure_.  Can you imagine Sue going for something like that?  Holly might, but not Sue.”

 

“She has an elliptical in her office though!” Kurt’s seen her use it, while taking calls no less.

 

“Yeah, but she’s the boss,” shrugs Blaine.

 

“How can you put up with her? The way she yells? The names she calls you.” Kurt suddenly blurts out.  He hasn’t even had a more than a few sips of his drink, but being near Blaine, really talking with him, relaxes him.

  
Some unnamable expression slips across Blaine’s features. “She’s a good person,” he says, voice tinged with a strange seriousness.  “Deep down, that is.  She’s a good boss, she – she hired me when she didn’t have to. Yeah, she’s loud and abrasive and can be downright mean, but she’s still a damn good agent and underneath it all, she _is_ a good person.”

 

Kurt swallows, acutely embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, to pry or-”

 

Blaine lifts a hand.  “Kurt, it’s okay.”  He smiles, eyes softening again, and the tension in Kurt’s shoulder blades eases.  “You’ll get used to her.”

 

Kurt wants to say something else, something _more_ , but the band on stage finally kicks into their set and anything Kurt would have wanted to express to him gets lost in the first notes of the electric guitar.

 

The first act is pretty decent, even if Kurt can’t even remember their name.  It’s some sort of rock and Kurt thinks the female guitarist, the one with the blue hair, is the best part about it.  They don’t play long, 20 minutes maybe, but it gives Kurt time to relax into it, to enjoy the night he’s spending with Blaine.  He might not get to have this again.

 

“Elliott’s up next,” Kurt says, while the first band is packing up from the stage.  “Do you want another drink?”

 

“Oh, I can get it.”

 

Kurt shakes his head and takes Blaine’s empty glass from his hand and trying not to bite his lip against the touch of Blaine’s fingers against his own.  “Nope, you got the first round.  Let me get this one.”  Blaine’s eyes are bright and happy as he opens his mouth, surely to protest, but Kurt cuts him off. “Seriously. I’m getting this one. What do you want?”

 

“Another Old Fashioned.”

 

Kurt lifts an eyebrow.  “Really?”

 

“What?  They’re good!”  Blaine is grinning widely enough that his teeth are showing.  Kurt loves it.

 

“Uh-huh, okay, old man,” he teases and Blaine laughs, ducking his head and Kurt swears he’s blushing.  “How old are you anyway?” He asks.

 

Blaine looks up at him and Kurt is struck once more by how absurd his eyelashes are.  “Twenty-three,” he answers.  “You?”

 

“Twenty-two,” Kurt responds.  He hadn’t really considered Blain’s age before. In the early mornings, with his smooth cheeks and styled hair, Blaine sometimes looks the youngest of everyone in the office.  But here, with his dark stubble and hair that has seen the push of his fingers all day, he looks older somehow.  Kurt likes that too.

 

“Oh, good,” Blaine finally says after a pause that was probably a beat or two too long.  “So I’m not that much older than you.” He says it like it means something, but Kurt doesn’t know _what_.

 

“No,” Kurt says faintly and he doesn’t know why he suddenly has trouble finding his breath.  Blaine is right in front of him, eyes huge and pulse visible in hollow of his throat where he’s loosened his tie and undone the top buttons of his shirt. “Uhm, I’ll be right back.”

 

He escapes to the bar to grab new drinks and finally catch his breath.  His heart is pounding, his cheeks are flushed, and this is ridiculous.  He’s ridiculous.  _Blaine_ is fucking ridiculous. When Kurt took the job at ICA he didn’t think he’d end up with a crippling adolescent crush.  He can’t push it away, he knows that already. But he can try and enjoy it, enjoy the fact that Blaine seems to at least like him as a co-worker and a person. He can live with that.

 

Kurt makes his way back to Blaine, who is texting someone on his phone.  Kurt forces himself not to take a peek at the screen to see who it is.  His jealous heart tells him it’s Sebastian though and it makes him tap Blaine’s arm with his elbow and smile sweetly when Blaine looks up from his phone.

 

“Thanks,” Blaine murmurs, taking the drink and putting his phone away in his pocket.  Kurt is happy to see it go.  “Your roommate is just about set up.”

 

Sure enough, on stage Elliott and his band are finishing getting ready.  The house lights are dimming and the crowd is pushing closer to the stage, but Kurt stays where he is with Blaine as the band kicks off.

 

Kurt hates that he can’t talk to Blaine with the music so loud.  But it also means that Blaine has to press in close to him to be heard over the thumping bass.

 

“He’s good!” Blaine yells and his breath ghosts hot across Kurt’s cheek and ear.  Kurt shivers.

 

“He really is!” Kurt agrees and his stomach won’t stop fluttering.  He still expects that people won’t want to be this near to him.  That it’s something close to forbidden to be allowed this. But Blaine is right there.

 

When he looks around the crowd, there other guys pressed too closely together to just be friends, watching the show with arms and legs touching, heads bent towards each other to whisper and talk. Girls too, Kurt notes, comfortable in each other’s space, not worried about anything else.  It wasn’t like this back home.

 

Back home he wouldn’t even had tried to go out to a gig, not like this one.  He wouldn’t have had anyone to go with anyway, and picking up strangers will never be his style.

 

But here, here he can let the top of his thigh brush Blaine’s hip as he twists in close in order to be heard. He can let himself touch Blaine’s elbow as he laughs and pretend like it’s all just a little more.

 

Kurt doesn’t drink much and the one he’s got is strong. Halfway into Elliott’s set he feels it, feels the warmth in his hands and feet and the way the world moves infinitesimally slower when he shakes his head.  It feels good though.  It feels like something he could let himself have more often, especially if Blaine is there with him.

 

He knows it doesn’t have to mean anything – that it might not be anything more to Blaine than just two co-workers relaxing after another work week.  But Blaine’s lips are so red in the dim lightning and his pupils are huge and Kurt can let himself imagine what it might be like to dip his head and kiss him once. Twice.  He can imagine Blaine responding to him surging in with teeth and tongue and wanting him just as badly as Kurt knows he wants Blaine.

 

When the show ends, Kurt doesn’t wait for Elliott. He knows his roommate will be too busy talking to people and won’t expect him too.  Kurt follows Blaine outside onto the sidewalk and takes a deep breath.

 

“I’m parked down that way,” Kurt says, nodding down the street.  The cooler night air is refreshing against his flushing cheeks.

 

“Yeah, I’m that way,” Blaine points to a different side street.  “I had fun tonight,” he says.  “Thanks for inviting me.”

 

Kurt doesn’t want the night to end, but knows it will. “Well, thanks for coming with me. You didn’t have to.”

 

Blaine frowns, just a little, and steps closer to Kurt. “I _wanted_ to.” His hands twitch like he wants to reach out, but doesn’t. “I,” he swallows, searching Kurt’s face for something Kurt isn’t sure he finds.  “We should do it again sometime.”

 

Kurt licks his lips. “Elliott’s got another show-”

 

“It doesn’t have to be this,” Blaine interrupts, pressing his lips together.  “We could do something else.”  There’s a note in his voice Kurt is struggling to place, like Blaine is trying to tell him something.  Kurt’s heart stutters and he wants to believe that is Blaine’s way of _hinting_ that maybe he too wants something _more_.  That maybe he’s asking Kurt out on a date.  But it’s so hard to let himself think that – to believe it’s true, no matter how much he wants it.

 

Because he doesn’t want to be wrong. Not again.

 

Kurt swallows hard, heart pounding, and nods. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

Blaine breathes out an audible sigh that can only be relief.  “Okay, good.”

 

“I’ll see you Monday?”

 

“Same place, same time,” Blaine agrees and Kurt can only nod again.  “Ok, well. Goodnight,” Blaine says.

 

“Night,” Kurt responds faintly and he watches as Blaine turns on his heel to head for his car.

 

He’s completely fucked.


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt is running a little late Monday morning, partly because of an accident on Wilshire and partly because Elliott cornered him in the kitchen demanding to know more about Blaine.

 

“So, I didn’t see a tie on your bedroom door this weekend,” Elliott had purred.

 

“It’s not like that,” Kurt had protested, flushing under the thought itself as well as Elliott’s knowing stare.

 

“Really.”

 

“Really.”

 

“But you want it to be.”

 

“I-”

 

Elliott had held a hand up to stop him from trying to protest.  “Don’t even. I’m not stupid.”

 

“He’s my co-worker,” Kurt had stressed. He knew how to line up excuses to keep himself from going after what he wanted. His bowl of cereal was going soggy and his coffee cold.

 

“So?”

 

“So…I don’t know even know if he likes me. Like that.”  But Kurt had thought about how Blaine had come to the show Friday night, and how’d stood so close for the whole set.

 

Elliott had rolled his eyes so hard Kurt felt the movement in his own head.  “Oh, come on! The dude is so into you. Everyone in that bar could tell.”

 

Kurt had shaken his head, put his dishes away, and left the kitchen.

 

“Don’t walk away from me while I’m trying to tell you what to do, Kurt Hummel!” Elliott called after him.

 

“I gotta go,” Kurt had said, grabbing his bag and his keys and heading for the door.

 

“We’ll talk about this later!”

 

“No we won’t,” Kurt had thrown over his shoulder and slipped out of their apartment.

 

The only thing that keeps him from being late, despite the traffic backup, is the unusually close parking spot he’s able to grab.

  
Blaine isn’t at his desk when he walks through the office, which sends an unhappy little pang through his belly, but his computer is on, so he must be around somewhere.

 

“Hey, Kurt!” Chandler greets him when he makes his way over to the intern desk and puts his stuff down.

 

“Hey.”

 

Chandler is wearing another flimsy scarf around his neck and Kurt still doesn’t know how he gets away with it.  “How was your weekend?  You went to that show, right?  Instead of coming out with us Friday night.”  Kurt isn’t sure if it’s meant to be teasing or accusatory, but it’s a little bit of both and it sets the hair at the back of his neck on end.

 

“Yeah, it was fun,” Kurt responds.  “I’m going to grab some coffee from the kitchen, do you need anything?”

 

“Oh, I’m good.  I also put the water in the conference room so you don’t have to worry about that,” Chandler nearly simpers and Kurt just nods. Carafes of water are almost never on the top of his list of daily worries.

 

Kurt brings his coffee back to the desk and opens up his laptop.  Jeff and Sugar come in while he’s still getting settled and they say their good mornings. He actually likes those two, even though – or perhaps because – they tend to keep to themselves. Kurt’s pretty sure they’ve been hooking up since before he started his internship, but they don’t seem to let it affect their work, which he appreciates.

 

“I’m going to need your phone number,” Blaine announces, popping up out of nowhere, and Kurt chokes on his coffee.

 

“What?” He gasps, holding the cup away from himself and checking that he didn’t spit coffee all over his pants.

 

Blaine is standing on the other side of the desk, smiling down at him.  His tie is teal and his hair is a little less styled than usual.  Kurt hates him.  Just a bit.  Just for a moment.  Almost has much as he likes him. 

 

“Your phone number,” Blaine repeats. “I forgot to get it from you the other night.”

 

Kurt feels his ears flushing red.  “Oh, right.”  He holds his hand out for the phone Blaine gives to him and quickly adds his number into Blaine’s contacts.

 

“Good,” Blaine says, taking the phone back and typing something.  Kurt’s own phone buzzes with a text and Blaine grins.  “And now you have _my_ number, so we can figure out about getting dinner.”

 

 _Dinner_ , Kurt thinks, a little breathless with it.  Dinner is more than just “doing something” together. Dinner means _something_.  Or at least Kurt hopes so.

 

“Yeah, that would be-”

 

“Blaine,” interrupts a silky smooth voice. Kurt watches, helplessness cold in his veins, as Sebastian slides up next to Blaine. “Isabelle’s been hounding me about those grids.  Did you get them done?”

 

Blaine hesitates to take his eyes off of Kurt, but he does, turning his attention, if not his body, towards Sebastian. “You know I’ve been busy with the slates. I can ask one of the interns to work on them today, though.”

 

Sebastian nearly sneers.  “An intern?  Really, Blaine?”  His eyes finally track down to Kurt.  “You’re going to pawn that off to an _intern_?” He says the word like there’s no lower life form.  Kurt grits his teeth and glares right back at him, hating that he’s sitting down when Sebastian is looming so tall over him.

 

He knows Blaine and Sebastian have a history. That much is obvious. But if Blaine’s measured distance from Sebastian – despite their generally easy back and forth – is any indication, he’s not interested in picking up wherever it was they left off. At least hopes so.

 

“I’m sure there’s nothing you can give us that we can’t take care of,” Kurt bites out, unable to hold it back.  He’s been slighted by better men than Sebastian.

 

Sebastian’s lip curls.  “How long have you been here? A week?  What do you know?”

 

“A little longer than that,” Kurt counters and he catches Blaine biting back a snicker.  He doesn’t miss the way Sebastian pins Blaine with a hard look and he gets it.  He understands. It’s not about Kurt – Sebastian’s cold stares and his snide comments aren’t about any displeasure with Kurt. It’s all about Blaine. And even if Blaine isn’t interested, Sebastian _is_. Kurt knows.  He’s been there.

 

“Fine,” Sebastian says, eyes narrowed, and Kurt knows that if he wasn’t already on the assistant’s shit list, he is now. “I’ll email you what I need and I expect it finished by the end of the day.”

 

Kurt nods.  “Fine.”  He’s seen the grids before, and worked with them a little, but he’s going to need some help.

 

“Blaine,” Sebastian says, voice leading, but Blaine just shakes his head as his eyes return to Kurt.

 

“One second, Bas,” he says, voice a little clipped.

 

Kurt is sure his heart can be seen pounding in his throat. Sebastian leaves with a disbelieving shake of his head and Kurt finally exhales.

 

“Anyway,” Blaine continues, dismissing the last few minutes with a simple word.  “Dinner. We’ll figure something out, yeah?”

 

“Absolutely,” Kurt nods and Blaine smiles so brightly Kurt can hardly stand to look.

 

“Great.  I better get to my desk because Sue gets back in, but I’ll help you out with those grids, okay?”  Blaine’s hand moves at his side and not for the first time Kurt wonders if Blaine is restraining himself from touching him in some way, perhaps to pat him on he shoulder.  Kurt wishes he would.

 

“No, it’s fine.  You’re busy.”

 

“Nonsense,” Blaine scoffs, eyes fucking twinkling. “It’s sort of my fault you ended up with that task.  The least I can do is give you a hand with it.”

 

“Well, if you insist.”

 

Blaine eyes go from sparkling to something else, something that makes Kurt’s stomach twist.  “I do,” Blaine says and Kurt swallows.

 

“Ok.”

 

“Good.  And don’t forget about dinner.”

 

Kurt watches Blaine stroll over to his computer and lower himself down to his chair.  Next to him, Santana struts, all legs and heels and the kind of confidence Kurt once thought he might have, and next to her Sebastian is glowering at his computer screen.  Kurt touches his cell phone, considering.

 

***

 

Kurt is barely through the front door that night after work when his phone buzzes.

 

_Hey, it’s Blaine. From ICA._

 

Kurt stares at the text, embarrassed by how fast his heart jumps at the sight of that name, that number.

 

 **Hey**.

 

He refuses to stand there waiting for a response, and busies himself with getting out of his work clothes and into sweatpants. But he still lunges for the phone when it buzzes where he’s set it on the dresser.

 

_Does tomorrow night work for you for dinner?_

 

Kurt sighs.  Of course Blaine would offer tomorrow.

 

 **I can’t. I’m busy**.

 

There’s a long pause that makes Kurt’s palms sweat until he realizes how that might come across.

 

**I’m a tutor on the side, so I work tomorrow night.**

 

 _Oh. Ok._   _What about Wednesday_? Comes Blaine’s much quicker response and Kurt tries so hard to let himself believe that for a moment Blaine had thought maybe he had a date with someone else and that he was jealous.

 

**That’s works.**

 

_Wanna go right after work?_

 

 

_Great! Then I will see you Wednesday. :)_

 

**Bright and early.**

 

:)

 

Kurt spends the rest of the night and much of the next day looking at Blaine’s texts, thumbing through them, re-reading every word.

 

He’s distracted enough at his tutoring session the next night that Hayley asks him what’s wrong in a tone that implies she knows exactly what’s wrong.  Kurt gives her extra translation work just because.

 

***

 

If asked later, Kurt wouldn’t be able to say what he did for most of Wednesday.

 

The day passes in a haze of spreadsheets, cleaning out the conference rooms, and staring blankly at the computer screen during his shift at the reception desk.  He’s pretty sure someone famous comes through about 2pm, but he can’t stop scrolling through the texts on his phone from Blaine to give a damn.

 

“Goddamn smiley face,” he mutters to himself.

 

It reminds him, somehow, of his mother. After she died, he’d gone to the refrigerator where the last birthday card she’d given was still pinned up. He’d read the words inked on the cardstock over and over.

 

_Happy Birthday, Sweet Pea.  Deserve what you’re given._

 

He’d spent days, weeks, reading the spare few words she’d left for him, trying to parse out some extra meaning from them. What did she mean? How was he supposed to deserve it? What has he been given? He was never going to be able to ask her what they meant, why she wrote them.  But they remained, long after she was gone, teasing him with the possibility of something more, something he didn’t understand. And couldn’t.

 

And though it’s not the same at all, Blaine’s smiley face pulls the same reaction from him.  Is he flirting?  Is he just being nice?  Is it an automatic thing he just puts at the ends of texts because texts are so fucking awkward?

 

Kurt sighs, slumping in his chair and thunking his forehead down on the desk.  This is why he doesn’t do this.  He’s terrible at this.

 

He jumps when his phone buzzes.

 

**Still on for dinner tonight? ;)**

 

Kurt looks up.  Blaine is grinning over at him from his desk, eyes stupidly beautiful even under the florescent lights of the office, and Kurt flushes.

 

He texts back and then glances over to watch Blaine’s face when he gets the message.  Blaine’s smile widens and Kurt resists the urge to wriggle happily in his seat.

 

Goddamn winky face.

 

***

 

Dinner is at a burger joint in Hollywood, not terribly far from the office.  It’s crowded and busy, but Blaine gets them a table in the outside seating where the noise is muted.

 

“Have you every been here before?”  Blaine asks as they take their seats. Kurt realized half a second too late that Blaine had meant to pull his chair out for him.

 

“Not yet.”  Kurt doesn’t want to say that the thought of paying $12 for a cheeseburger makes his bank account shrink in fear.  Part-time tutoring doesn’t pay _that_ well.

 

“It’s pretty good,” Blaine shrugs, picking up the menu. “I like it better than the other place.”

 

Kurt nods like he knows what Blaine is talking about. He hasn’t had a lot of time to go around sampling the various burger joints in Los Angeles, especially when he’s more than capable of cooking himself something just as good, and much less expensive.

 

The waitress comes along and Kurt is a little surprised when Blaine orders a beer; he expected another Old Fashioned. Kurt takes a longer look at the man sitting across from him.  His jacket is draped over the back of his chair, leaving him in his dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a navy tie embroidered with pink seahorses that he’s loosened the knot of.  His hair again looks like he’s run his fingers through it a couple of times and Kurt wonders once more why he styles the way he does.

 

There’s something in the tight set of Blaine’s shoulders, the way his shoes gleam even on days the company doesn’t bring in the shoe shiner, and the fact that he sits in that assistant’s chair at a small agency even though his father owns a studio that tells Kurt something wild and fierce is roiling just under the surface.

 

Kurt knows Blaine is more than the man in the expensive suit, and he wants to know who that is.

 

Blaine leans forward after the waitress leaves, elbows on the table and eyes nowhere but Kurt.  “So what’s your story, Kurt Hummel?” He asks.

 

“What do you mean?” Kurt can feel the defensiveness creeping up his spine.

 

“I mean…” Blaine makes a complicated gesture with his hands.  “What’s your story? Where are you from? Why are you here?”

 

“At this burger place?” Kurt asks, deflecting because he knows, he can _tell_ how this is conversation is going to go.  “Because you invited me.”

 

 _On a date_ , he thinks.  _Maybe_.

 

Blaine laughs, ducking his head, and Kurt knows it wasn’t that funny, but still, Blaine laughs.  “No, I’m serious.  Tell me your story.  I want to know.”

 

Kurt stares down at the empty space on the table where his food will be.  “There’s not much to tell,” he mutters.

 

“I don’t believe that,” protests Blaine, sincerity etching deep.

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

“Hey.” Kurt jolts when Blaine reaches across the table and rests his hand over Kurt’s.  His palm is warm and when Kurt lifts his head, Blaine is staring at him with the most achingly sincere expression Kurt has ever seen outside of his dad. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.  But I’d like to know more about you, if that’s okay.”

 

Kurt swallows.  It’s not even like he’s hiding anything.  Not really.  There’s nothing to hide.

 

“Besides,” Blaine says, gently teasing, and his eyes are nearly golden in the dim lighting.  “You already know my dark, dirty family secrets.”

 

“Being rich isn’t a dirty secret,” Kurt scoffs.

 

Blaine shrugs and shifts in his seat. “It can be out here.” Kurt doesn’t understand that at all, but he nods.

 

“Well,” he begins. “I moved here a couple months ago. From Ohio.”

 

“Really?  Where?”

 

“Lima.”

 

“No shit?” Blaine exclaims, smiling again. “I’m from Westerville. Well, near there.”

 

Kurt brightens. Usually telling people he’s from Ohio is met with a blank stare or looks of sympathy. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.  Went to this fancy prep school my parents sent me to until I moved out for college.”

 

Kurt can see that, can see the wealthy upbringing in the way Blaine styles his hair and the way he holds his shoulders. Kurt noticed right away that Blaine’s clothes were the nicest out of all of the assistants, maybe with the exception of Sebastian.  He imagines Blaine spent much of school beloved by all.

 

“It was just shitty public school for me,” Kurt says and hopes that’s enough of an explanation.

 

“I take it that didn’t go well?”

 

Kurt shrugs and doesn’t think about the sting of a locker handle against his back.  It’s been years and most things do eventually heal.  “Could have been better.”  
  
“I get that,” Blaine offers, but Kurt doesn’t think he possibly could.

 

The pause that follows must last a beat too long because Blaine reaches out to touch his hand again.  “We can talk about me too, if you want.”

 

“Not, it’s.  I swear.  There’s not much to tell.  I moved out here because I wasn’t sure what else to do.  My dad, he owns a garage.  A car garage.  But I was never going to be a mechanic. I mean, I know my way around a break pad, but it was never going to be enough for me.”

 

Kurt once tried to imagine himself working for his dad in the shop until it was time for him to take over.  He was good at it, good with his hands, but it would have never made him happy.  Though staying in Ohio would have meant being close to home to take care of his dad, he’d known since high school he needed to find a way to take care of himself first.

 

Blaine nods. “So you moved out.”

 

“I did.”  Kurt vividly remembers packing his car with the last of his things. He’d put what fit in his car and left the rest behind before hitting the road with an address for a new apartment in Hollywood and the name of a roommate he’d only spoken to a couple of times.

 

Blaine takes a long drink of his beer and Kurt watches the mesmerizing play of his throat as he swallows.  “Why here?” Blaine asks.  “Why Hollywood?

 

Kurt picks at his fries.  The food is good, but his appetite is waning. It’s a question he asks himself all the time.  It’s one of the many things that keep him awake at night and staring at the ceiling. And he still doesn’t know the answer.

 

“You don’t want to be an agent,” Blaine prompts, when Kurt’s silence lingers.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Manager?” Blaine tries, a smile staring to play on his lips.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Publicist.”

 

Kurt can’t stop his indelicate snort. “Not even remotely.”

 

Blaine chuckles.  “Well, I give up.  So, what are you passions?  There’s gotta be something you love to do.”

 

Kurt shrugs.  “I like to bake, but I don’t want to be a baker.  I – I like clothes, but I don’t know if I really want to design.  I went to school for it, but there was so much backstabbing and in-fighting.  It was high school all over again, only worse, and I didn’t want to do that all over again.  So I guess I feel like I’m, I’m searching, but I don’t know for what.”

 

“Well, you don’t have to know.”  Blaine eyes are so open, so sincere that Kurt has to look away.

 

“My rent, my bills, and my student loans say otherwise,” scoffs Kurt.

 

“Working a job isn’t the same as doing what you love, and something you have to do the one before you get to do the other. And that’s ok.”

 

Kurt looks down at this food and fiddles with his own drink. He was glad the waitress was leaving them alone, but now he sort of wishes for the interruption.

 

“So what are _you_ doing here?”  Kurt asks. Even if this isn’t a date, even if it’s nothing more than two co-workers, it’s the longest conversation he’d had in months with someone beyond his father.  And the best.

 

Blaine sits back in his chair. “It’s complicated.”

 

If nothing else, Kurt understands complications. “Because of your family?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“The rules are the same here, Blaine. You can tell me about it,” Kurt puts his hand to his chest without thinking about it, but he sees Blaine’s gaze track down.

 

“It’s the same old song and dance of family expectations,” Blaine says, picking at the label on his beer.  “There’s nothing unique about my story. You know about my dad.”

 

“Yeah.”  Kurt’s never met Mr. Anderson and he isn’t sure he ever wants to.

 

“And you know who my brother is,” continues Blaine.

 

Kurt can’t help but laugh a little. Cooper Anderson would be well known without his handful of Oscars.  “Those are…some pretty big shoes to fill.”

 

“But it’s not even about that.  It’s about not being given the chance to do something other than working for him.  Or working here,” Blaine’s hand gestures encapsulate all of Los Angeles. “This is never what I wanted, and yet here I am.”

 

It’s the first time Blaine has sounded like this – defeated.  Tired. And it makes Kurt’s stomach ache.

 

“So tell me what you did want, before you ended up out here.”

 

Blaine shakes his a head, suddenly smiling bashfully and blushing.  “You’re going to laugh.”

 

“I’m not,” protests Kurt, leaning forward, eager for any chance to know just the slightest the man he knows Blaine must really be beneath the suit and tie.

 

“I wanted to be a music teacher,” Blaine finally admits, lips twitching and cheeks pink.

  
And it’s the not the answer Kurt was expecting at all. “Really?”

 

“Is that so surprising?” Blaine tilts his head, just this side of defensive, and Kurt holds his hands up.

 

“I didn’t mean to suggest anything. I mean, I know you enjoyed that concert, but.  Music. That’s great.” He remembers how Blaine swayed to the beat during Elliott’s show, the way he was so open and loose, and he thinks he’s starting to get it.

 

“Maybe not in schools.  Private, I think.  Where I can really work with a kid.  Or an adult.  Music doesn’t have an age limit,” Blaine muses.  His voice has dropped low and Kurt isn’t ashamed at the swooping feeling in his stomach at the thought of Blaine with a piano or guitar teaching someone else his passion.

 

“I didn’t realize you were a musician,” Kurt offers as a kind of apology.

 

“It doesn’t really come up in the office.”

 

“No, it’s doesn’t.  So, why don’t you?”  
  
Blaine blinks at him. “What?”

 

“Teach music.”

 

“I’d have to go back to school for it,” Blaine’s shoulders slump a little.

 

“So…?”

 

“Kurt.  My parents have money.  I don’t.”

 

“Oh.” Kurt swallows.  He forgets about trust fund babies.  And people who have money that’s not really theirs.

 

“Yeah.  And my dad wants me at his company.  Always has.  I convinced him that working at the agency – at ICA – would be good for me. That it would give me experience in another part of the industry, outside perspective.  Blah blah.  All that kind of bullshit.  Really I’m just…”

 

“Stalling?” Kurt offers, understanding.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Well, you should talk to your dad. Really talk to him.” Kurt thinks he’s probably being a little naïve.  He knows his relationship with his father is unique – that not everyone has what he has with their parents.

 

“You don’t know what he’s like,” protests Blaine, shaking his head and swallowing down the last of his beer.

 

“That true,” Kurt agrees. “But I still think you should try. You’re an adult. You get to make your own choices.”

 

Blaine fixes him with a hard stare. “So do you.”

 

Kurt leans back in his chair and waves his hands towards the dark night sky.  “I did. I chose here.”

 

“Do you like it?”  


Kurt levels his gaze back at Blaine. Across the table Blaine is gorgeous as ever, leaning towards him with those stupidly bright eyes of his and the loosened tie showing the dark hollow of his throat.  It hits him against as it always does, a low, throbbing tug in his gut that he can’t shake no matter how many times he tells himself it’s not what he thinks it is.

 

But they’re here, together, sharing burgers and drinks and talking for an hour.

 

And Kurt can be brave enough for this. “Parts of it,” he says lowly, and Blaine blushes, ducking his head a little. Hope is fluttering high and bright in Kurt’s chest that he’s reading Blaine right in this.

 

“Oh,” Blaine smiles and the ache in Kurt’s stomach flares hotly. “Good.  That’s good.”

 

“And the rest?” Kurt shrugs.  “I don’t know. I’m stalling too.”

 

“Maybe we can stall together,” suggest Blaine and Kurt can only swallow.

 

Blaine sits back, legs splayed, and pops the last of the fries into his mouth, completely comfortable in his body and Kurt can suddenly imagine them sitting anywhere else, just like this.  Talking for hours.  Even if it’s not the same for Blaine, the thought makes Kurt warm.

 

When the check finally comes, Blaine reaches for it before Kurt has a chance to blink.

 

“Let me get this,” Blaine offers, wallet already in hand, and Kurt immediately bristles.

 

“Don’t be silly.”

 

“I invited you.”

 

“We can split it,” Kurt counters, and not just because if Blaine pays for his burger it’ll make the night seems even more like the date it wasn’t.

 

Blaine playfully rolls his eyes.  “You can get the next one,” he says and that knocks Kurt back into his chair.

 

The next one.


	6. Chapter 6

On Wednesday morning Blaine brings Kurt a mocha from the Coffee Bean, even though Kurt has never told him he likes them. Blaine just leaves the cup on the intern desk where Kurt normally sits so when Kurt walks in it’s just there waiting for him.  Kurt blushes and forces himself not to look to where Sebastian is likely fuming at him.

 

Friday, Blaine asks him out to lunch. Kurt stares at him dumbly before nodding.  They eat at the café in the building and even though the food isn’t that great, sitting across from Blaine talking about how ridiculous some prior interns have been _is_.  It doesn’t even matter that Sebastian snatches up Blaine as soon as they get back, or that Sue gives Kurt a sharp stare from the doorway of her office.  He doesn’t care. His wrist is still tingling from where Blaine’s fingers grazed the skin and his heart gives a painful little lurch when he remembers how Blaine pulled his chair out for him. At least Isabelle gives him a conspiratorial wink.

 

For once Kurt is disappointed when 7:30pm rolls around and it’s time to go.  He briefly thinks about asking Blaine out for drinks or something, but as soon as he gets the courage, Sebastian swoops in.  Kurt can’t hear what’s said, but Sebastian seems insistent, all long limbs and simpering smile and Kurt watches as Blaine’s body sags before he nods. Blaine looks back over his shoulder with an apologetic look that has Kurt’s mouth going dry as Sebastian ushers Blain out of the office.

 

Kurt spends the weekend paying bills with money he doesn’t have and cleaning the apartment.  Elliott takes him to another show and introduces him to a guy with nice eyes but Kurt can’t even remember his name five minutes later. Elliott’s knowing smirk would be aggravating, but Kurt’s already annoyed with how easily he fell for Blaine’s whiskey eyes and strong forearms.

 

***

 

It falls apart on a Thursday.

 

Kurt’s not even supposed to be into work that that day, but he’d gotten a text from Mr. Schuester saying that Marley, one of the Tuesday/Thursday interns, was sick and asking if he could come in.  It's not like Kurt has anything else to do.

 

But when he walks into the office that morning the first thing he sees is Sebastian standing next to Blaine's chair, leg and hip pressed all along Blaine's shoulder, with his hand resting on the back of Blaine's neck.  It's a perfect tableau. Blaine is laughing and Sebastian is gazing down at him with as much fondness as Kurt has ever seen from him.

 

Kurt goes cold, stomach heavy with anger, and then he flushes hot all over when Sebastian looks over at him, something like triumph burning in his eyes.  He really should have expected this.

 

Blaine follows his gaze and when he sees Kurt something flickers across his face. Regret?  Confusion?  Kurt doesn't know.  He doesn't care. Blaine is just another guy he's not good enough for.

 

Kurt squares his shoulders, ignoring the sweat building in the small of his back, and marches to the intern area. From the corner of his eye he sees Blaine trying to turn in his chair, but Sebastian holds him in place. It's fine.  Kurt has work to do and it's fine.

 

He has grids to update and expense reports to fill out and it’s _fine_.  Not even Chandler touching his elbow can bother him. Not anymore.

 

Blaine tries to talk to him in the kitchen, but Kurt slips past him, trying to act like he was leaving anyway and not in the middle of pouring himself a third cup of coffee. He's being childish, he knows. Blaine doesn't owe him anything. Not a damn thing. But that doesn't stop his stomach from twisting viciously at the thought of Sebastian's hand on Blaine. He'll get over it. He always does.

 

A little before one, Blaine hesitantly approaches the intern desk.  He has the look of someone who knows he’s done something wrong and he’s desperately trying to fix it. Except there’s nothing to fix. Blaine isn’t beholden to Kurt. They weren’t dating. Kurt isn’t going to be _that guy_.  He won’t.

 

But he’s still angry.

 

"Hey, Kurt,” Blaine murmurs.

 

"Hey,” responds Kurt, barely looking up. Just the sound of Blaine’s voice makes his stomach clench.

 

"Do you want to come with me to get some lunch?"

 

"Sorry, I can’t.  I want to finish this project up before Isabelle gets back.” It's a lie and he doesn't care. He doesn't owe Blaine anything either.

 

He glances up in time to see the hurt and frustration pass across Blaine’s face. “Okay, well.  I’ll see you later?”  It’s a question Kurt doesn’t have an answer to, not right then, and he can only nod jerkily in response.

 

***

 

Kurt is wallowing and he knows it.  He goes for a run that barely lasts half an hour before he finds a Starbucks and gets himself an iced mocha he doesn’t really need. He sits at a table, staring moodily out of the window and wishing it were raining, until a young couple walks by holding hands.

 

They’re adorable, smiling with their fingers tangled, and Kurt hates them just a little.

  
The next taste of chocolate reminds him of the coffee Blaine brought him and he throws the rest away on his way out of the store.

 

He’s fucking _ridiculous_.

 

When he gets home, Kurt waves hello to Elliott, who’s splayed out on the couch with his guitar, and grabs his phone, taking it into his bedroom to call his dad.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Burt greets, a note of surprise in his voice.

 

“Hey, dad.”

 

“How’s it going?”

 

Kurt flops back onto his bed, kicking off his shoes. “Uhm…” He’s not sure where to start.

 

“This is going to be one of those talks where he should be sitting down with some hot chocolate, isn’t it?” Burt interrupts.  


Kurt chuckles, he can’t help it.  He can picture his dad in the living room in the easy chair, or at the dining room table with the morning paper still spread out in front of him.  “Yeah, probably.”

 

“Then pretend that’s exactly what we’re doing and tell me what’s going on.”

 

“I don’t know, I’m just – I’m feeling lost,” sighs Kurt.

 

“Is this about a guy?” 

 

Of course his dad would know immediately. “Partly,” admits Kurt, running his hand through his hair.

 

“And the other part?”

 

Kurt opens his mouth and then closes it, even though his dad can’t see him.  He doesn’t know where to start.  There’s so much rolling around his head – Blaine, the agency, his rent that comes from his savings account.  It’s all tied up together in a knot he can’t unravel.

 

“Why did I move out here?” He asks finally. He supposes he’s been asking himself that since he crossed the Ohio state border all those months ago.

 

“Hell, son,” Burt exclaims softly. “I don’t know. I was hoping you’d tell me at some point.”

 

“I think I wanted a change,” Kurt realizes. High school had been an exercise in just making it to the end of the day. College hadn’t been much better. If he hadn’t left when he did, Kurt thinks he might not ever have.

 

“A change of what?” His father asks.  


“Something,” Kurt shrugs.  “I don’t know any more.  I don’t think I every really knew.” All he knows is that he was never going to be happy in Lima, Ohio, and he owed it to himself to get out. Hollywood had somehow felt like the place to go.  Maybe it was only fanciful thinking.

 

“Can I tell you something, son?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I know you didn’t.”

 

Kurt takes a deep breath.  “And you let me go.”

 

“I let you try and make your own way through the world. You know that if anything happens I’m here for you, a home is here for you.  But you needed to try this.”

 

“And I failed.”  And that’s his biggest fear.  That he came this far for nothing.

 

“You didn’t,” insists Burt, voice strong and soothing. “You haven’t.  It hasn’t even been a year, son.  It takes time to figure out your life.”

 

Kurt puts his hand over his chest, over where is heart is aching to hug his dad.  “I love you, dad.”

 

“Love you too, kid.”

 

“I should come home for Christmas,” muses Kurt. He thinks about snow and a giant Christmas tree falling asleep on the couch while his dad watches TV.

 

“We’ll talk about that later.  Tell me about this guy.  The one that’s giving you some trouble.”

 

Kurt sighs.  “I don’t know about that either.  There’s this other guy-”

 

“There are _two_ guys now?” Burt interjects, voice rising.

 

“What?  No. This guy, the one that I – I like, he’s got another guy.”

 

“Kurt,” warns Burt.

 

“No, Dad.  It’s not like that.  The other guy is an ex.  I think. I’m not totally sure.” Kurt thinks at some point he probably should have asked Blaine about Sebastian, but it wasn’t really ever his business.

 

“You haven’t asked him? This guy you like?”

 

“Dad.  How am I supposed to ask him if he’s still into his ex when he might not even like me?”

 

“Are you two dating?”

 

Kurt throws his arm over his eyes.  “No, maybe.  I don’t know.”

 

“You’re not making me like this kid at all,” Burt says and Kurt remembers the first boy he ever kissed and how his dad had reacted to that.

 

“We went out to a show, with my roommate. And then we had dinner together, just me and Blaine.”

 

“Blaine.  That his name?”

 

“Yeah.  And he brought me coffee at work and we had lunch and I just-”

 

“But you’re not dating?”

 

Kurt groans.  “I don’t know.  It’s not that simple. The other guy – Blaine’s ex – he works at the agency too.  He’s always there.  And he’s…” Kurt doesn’t know how to describe Sebastian and doesn’t even want to bother. “It’s complicated.”

 

“You know, Kurt.  I’m not going to say the world was a lot simpler when I was dating your mom, but it sure as hell feels like it.”

 

“Feels like it to me too.”

 

“If you want my advice-”

 

“It’s why I called.”

 

“Figured.  If you want my advice then here it is.  Take a few days to yourself to calm down, and then talk to him. See where he’s really at. And if this other guy – this ex – is still a problem?  Then you should walk away.”

 

Kurt swallows past his dry throat and his stomach feels filled with lead.  His dad is right; he knows it.  If Blaine is still stuck on Sebastian then he can’t be a part of it. He’s not going to fight for someone whom he barely knows, someone who doesn’t know what he wants. He has to think of himself before he worries about someone else.

 

“Thanks, dad.”

 

“Of course.  Now, tell me something happy.  All this boy-talk isn’t good for my health.”

 

Kurt laughs and it feels good.

 

***

 

But the world crumbles a little more on Monday.

 

Kurt is getting ready for work, tying his shoes and finding his wallet, when he hears the telltale squealing of a car out of control just before the horrendous crash of metal and glass and plastic.

 

It’s close, too close, and anxiety fills Kurt’s stomach. The kind of roiling fear that comes with knowing something’s wrong before you can really know.

 

Kurt knows something’s more than wrong when he heads outside for his car and sees shattered glass sparkling on the concrete. Dread floods through him, cold and choking, even before he sees that the back of his Range Rover has been smashed in.

 

He stops, keys held aloft in his hand. The entire back windshield is in pieces on the ground, as is the bumper.  The car is sitting off kilter, rear axel clearly out of alignment, and the other car is nowhere to be seen.

 

Kurt looks around helplessly.  For once there’s no one on the street, no other cars driving by, and no one to speak of on the sidewalks.  Of course there are no witnesses.  Of course. 

 

“Holy shit,” Elliott says near his shoulder, having followed out to investigate.

 

“I don’t-” Kurt tries, but the words fail him. It hasn’t set in at all – that his car has been hit in front of his own damn apartment. How do these things happen?

 

“Did you see what happened?”

 

Kurt shakes his head.  “No, I.  I just heard it.”

 

“Fuck, man.”  Elliott hand is heavy and comforting on his back, but it doesn’t erase what’s in front of him.  He’s too stunned to be mad.

 

“I have to get to work,” Kurt says, vacantly. It’s suddenly all he can think about.

 

“Yeah.  Fuck that.”  Elliott’s fingers curl around his elbow.  “Let’s call a tow truck first.  And your insurance company.  And the police.  And then your dad. Okay?”

 

Kurt nods dumbly and lets himself get led back inside by Elliott.  He’s sure eventually he’ll feel something other than numb about the whole thing.

 

He’s more than three hours late by the time he gets into the office, having gotten his car towed to a garage and the insurance claim started.  Elliott gave him a ride to work, even though it meant he himself would be late to his job.

 

Mr. Schuester looks like he doesn’t know what to say, but Isabelle give him an achingly sympathetic smile he quietly tells her what happened.

 

Blaine looks up at him with deeply etched concern when Kurt walks by his desk, but Kurt tightens his jaw and looks away. He can’t deal with that too. Not just then.

  
But Blaine corners him an hour later in the kitchen and Kurt doesn’t have the energy to just push past him.

 

“Is everything okay?”  Blaine asks, voice pitched low and private and Kurt can’t meet his gaze.

 

“It’s fine,” Kurt bites out.  His heart is thudding in his chest at just the nearness of him.

 

“Kurt,”

 

“I’m serious.”  He just wants to get back to his desk and his laptop and his stupid Box Office reports.

 

“You’re lying,” Blaine counters and Kurt sighs, rolling his eyes.

 

“Someone hit my car this morning and then took off.”

 

Blaine takes a step towards him, but stops. “Oh, Kurt, I’m-”

 

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” interrupts Kurt, holding a hand up.  “It wasn’t your fault.” It wasn’t Kurt’s fault either, but it still happened.  His mom wasn’t his fault either, but that happened too.

 

“Is it bad?” Blaine asks. His eyebrows are drawn nearly flat and part of Kurt just wants Blaine to hug him.

  
“It’s not good.  I think my insurance is going to cover most of it, but the car’s gonna be in the shop for a while and I don’t know how I’m going to get to work.” He can’t ask Elliott for a ride. And he still has to figure out how to get to his tutoring sessions with Hayley – he can’t lose out on that money to.

 

“I could pick you up,” Blaine offers immediately, eyes wide and so earnest.

 

Kurt stiffens reflexively.  “No, Blaine.  I couldn’t-”

 

“You don’t have to ask.  I’m offering.” Blaine’s sincerity is painful.

 

“And that’s very nice of you, but, no thank you.” He doesn’t need the reminder that Blaine has more than enough money to throw around, especially since it’s his dad’s money.  “I’ll figure it out.”

 

“Kurt.  The buses out here suck and rental cards are expensive.”

 

“I’m aware.”  His voice is sharp and snide and he can’t help it. “Look Blaine, I appreciate your concern, but this is _my_ problem and I’ll take care of it myself.”

 

Kurt finally walks around Blaine and heads back to his desk.  He spends the next hour researching rental cars instead of doing his work and wondering if he shouldn’t have taken Blaine up on his offer.  But his pride has always been one of his worst qualities and that hasn’t changed just because some asshole wrecked his car in the still quiet of the morning.

 

He figured things really couldn’t get any worse, anyway.  He’d suck it up and get the rental car.

 

*******

 

When the phone rings in the morning of his day off Kurt doesn’t answer it.  He’s barely awake as it is and it’s not like too many people ever call him anyway. And if it’s important enough they’ll leave him a message or send him a text.  But then the phone rings again and when he looks at the screen, the incoming number has an Ohio area code.

 

“Hello?” He answers, groggily.

 

“Kurt Hummel?”  An unfamiliar voice asks.

 

“Yes, this is he.”

 

“This is Jane Alvarez from St. Rita’s Medical Center. I’m calling to let you know that your father was admitted to the hospital this morning.”

 

The world goes quiet all around him.

 

“I – what?”

 

“Your father was brought into the emergency room following a cardiac event.  After he was stabilized he was admitted to the cardiac ward for treatment and observation.” Her tone is kind, but clinical, and Kurt cannot breathe.

 

“What are you saying?  Are you saying he had a heart attack?”  Kurt would sit down if he wasn’t already lying down. His heart is pounding in his chest and his head feels light.

 

“Yes, it would appear that way,” Jane answers. “But we’ll know more when his test results come back.”

 

“I – can I talk to him?”  Kurt remembers hospitals.  He remembers stark rooms and a body that had lost her voice.  He can’t do it again. He can’t.

 

“He’s currently undergoing a procedure and-”

 

Kurt sits up, fear spiking cold through him. “What procedure?”

 

“Coronary angioplasty, Mr. Hummel.”

 

“Oh god, I don’t – I don’t understand. Is he going to be okay?”

 

“I’m afraid that’s all the information I currently have for you,” Jane says, voice still infinitely kind, and Kurt remembers too the kindness of nurses. “Your father is in Room 317C.  Visitation hours are from 9am to 8pm.”

 

“I’m in Los Angeles,” Kurt says, faintly, and there’s a long pause.

 

“If you’d like to call the hospital in a couple of hours we should have more information about your father’s condition.”

 

“I – okay.  Thank you.”  Kurt swallows dryly and blinks back tears.  He’s surprised it took this long to start crying.  “Thank you,” he repeats, because it’s all he can say, and he hangs up.

 

Kurt stares at his phone hanging loosely in his hand, mind gone blank.  He has to get home, has to see his dad, to know he’s okay, to see him for himself. But he can’t.  He can’t afford a last minute ticket halfway across the country.  He could put it on a credit card, but he’s got enough debt with his student loan as is and he doesn’t know how he’s going to pay that off and why is he even thinking about this?  He has to go. It’s his father. It’s the only family he’s got left.

 

He’ll charge it to his card and figure the rest out later. It’s just money, after all. It doesn’t really matter. But he’s still going to need a ride to the airport.  Elliott is already gone and Kurt doesn’t think there’s anyone else he can call. He’ll have to get a cab. Or an Uber.  And that’s just money too.

 

 

Swallowing heavily, Kurt pulls up his contacts and stares at Blaine’s name.  There’s a chance Blaine won’t have left for work already.  Maybe he’d be willing to go out of his way to take Kurt to the airport.  He can offer Blaine money for gas or take him out to dinner.  Anything.  But he’s not sure Blaine will agree.

 

He knows that he’s been…less than friendly to Blaine the last few days, but he hopes that maybe Blaine can forgive him that for this. Kurt takes a deep breath and presses _call_.

 

“Hello?” Blaine answers, clearly confused.

  
“Blaine, hi.  It’s Kurt-”

 

“Hey, Kurt.” Blaine’s voice is tinged with uncertainty and what Kurt thinks is a note of hope, but he can’t spare himself the time to wonder if Blaine’s been waiting for him to reach out. “What’s going on?”

 

“I’m sorry to call you so early and I know you have to get to work, but-”

 

“Hey,” Blaine cuts him off. “Is everything okay? You sound…”

 

“My dad’s in the hospital,” Kurt blurts out, just to get the truth out there.  “And I, I need a ride-”

 

“Whoa, whoa.  Kurt.  Breathe. Tell me what you need. Tell me how I can help.”

 

“I need to get to the airport.  I need to get home.  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.  I don’t.”  Kurt stops, covers his eyes with one hand even though Blaine can’t see him cry. He knows Blaine can still hear the wet choke in his voice.

 

“Text me your address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”  Kurt can hear rustling like Blaine is moving around quickly.

 

“No, I. I can get a cab.  I don’t know why I-” He shouldn’t have called; he can’t ask Blaine for this.  It’s too much.

 

“Kurt.  Stop.  Breathe.” Kurt does. “I’m going to hang up. You’re going to send me your address and I’m going to come get you.”

 

“You have work,” Kurt protests, but cannot deny the grateful thud of his heart that Blaine will help him.

 

“Fuck that. I’m grabbing my keys and getting in the car.  Tell me where you live.”

 

“Okay.”

 

***

 

It isn’t until they get to the airport that Kurt remembers he hasn’t actually bought a ticket to Ohio yet.  In the 20 minutes it took Blaine to pull up in front of Kurt’s apartment, Kurt had thrown some clothes into a bag, grabbed his toothbrush, and remembered to tie his shoes.  But in the rush he’d forgotten to buy a way home to see his dad.

 

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Blaine soothes, reaching over to touch his hand.  Kurt immediately clasps his other hand around Blaine’s and does not let go until he has to. He’ll think later about the warmth of Blaine’s palm and the strength of his fingers.  Right now he’s only focused on his father.

  
Blaine parks in one of the garages instead of just dropping him off and his hand in the small of Kurt’s back as he guides him over to the Delta ticketing counter is a solid comfort.

 

“Hi there,” Blaine greets the ticketing agent and Kurt is infinitely grateful for him.  “We need your next available flight to Ohio, preferably Columbus.”

 

The agent nods. “Certainly, sir.  Two tickets?”

 

Kurt catches Blaine looking at him before answering and he does not understand the expression etched between his eyebrows. “Er, no.  Just the one.  For him.  It’s a family emergency.”

 

“I understand, sir,” answers the agent. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want a round-trip fare or one-way?”

 

Kurt blinks at the question directed at him. “Oh, I-” He hasn’t thought that far ahead, driven only by the need to get to his dad.  How to get back to Los Angeles hadn’t even occurred to him.  


“Round trip,” Blaine chimes in.  “For a week from today.”

 

That snaps Kurt out of his haze.  “Blaine.”

 

“Take the week,” Blaine insists.  “And if you need more, change the flight.”

 

“But – but work.”  It might not be the best job in the world, and it might not pay him anything, but it’s still his job, and it’s still going to do it to the best of his ability.

 

“You’re an intern,” Blaine points out, firmly. “Fuck them.  I’ll talk to Schue about it.  You need to be home with your dad.  That’s what’s important.”

 

Kurt shifts and meets Blaine’s gaze. His eyes are so close and oddly green in the harsh, florescent lighting of the airport. Kurt wants to say something – anything – but every word he knows is stuck fast in his throat. He nods.

 

The price for a direct flight to Ohio in four hours is exorbitant and Kurt pales at the thought, thinking of his loan and his car and everything else, but Blaine is already handing the ticketing agent his credit card.

 

“I’ve got this,” he says, touching Kurt’s wrist.

 

“Blaine.  No.  Don’t you dare.” A burger or mocha is one thing; this is something completely different. This is not the act of a colleague. Or even a friend.

 

“Jesus Christ, Kurt,” snaps Blaine, exasperated. “For once if your life don’t argue with me.”

 

Kurt closes his mouth.  Across the counter the ticketing agent is smirking at them, just a little, and Kurt blushes.

 

“Are you checking any bags?” The woman asks.

 

“No, just carry on,” confirms Kurt. All he’s got with him is what he threw in his bag.

 

The ticketing agent types away on her computer and Kurt takes a moment to look at Blaine.  He’s facing the counter, signing the bill for the ticket and Kurt rakes his eyes over Blaine’s face.  The stubble along his jaw.  The softness under his chin.  The curve of his lips as presses them together in concentration. Blaine’s hair is a mess of dark curls, completely free of any styling, and Kurt wants to know what it feels like wrapped around his fingers.  Kurt wants to touch his lips to the line of Blaine’s cheekbone – hold his hand again and tuck his face into the space of his throat.

 

“Your ticket, Mr. Hummel,” the agent says, sliding a packet of paper across the counter. “Your gate is 51B.”

 

“Thank you.”  Kurt takes the ticket and lets the gentle guidance of Blaine’s hand against the small of his back lead him over to the side.

 

Kurt stands in front of Blaine, suddenly nervous as he adjusts his bag over his shoulder.  Shame is fighting its way through his stomach at the way he reacted to seeing Blaine and Sebastian at the office.  He should have stopped and let Blaine say something, he should have waited to see what was really going on.  Now he doesn’t know and he doesn’t have time to find out.

 

“I don’t know what to say,” Kurt offers, softly.

 

Blaine shakes his head, hands restless at his sides. “You don’t have to. Just.  Let me know your dad is all right, okay?” His eyes are huge and earnest and Kurt couldn’t look away if he tried.  And call me when you’re on the way back.  I’ll come get you.”

 

“I’ll find a way to pay-”

 

“Don’t,” Blaine sharply interrupts, taking a step into Kurt’s space and grabbing his arm.  “Don’t even say it.  Just.”  His grip is strong around Kurt’s bicep and there’s a kind of urgency tugging at the corners of his mouth that Kurt doesn’t understand.  “Call me when you can, so I know everything’s okay.”

 

Kurt nods.  He thinks another time, under other circumstances, he might try to kiss Blaine, might see if that’s allowed, but he can’t. Not like this. Not with the reason they’re standing there so close is because of Kurt’s father.  And not before they’ve talked about Sebastian.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine says and it’s a slightly broken sound. Kurt shakes his head and quickly steps forwards, pushing himself into Blaine’s chest and wrapping his arms around Blaine’s shoulders.  Kurt feels Blaine stiffen against him before his whole body melts and softens, and then there are strong arms around his waist and a face tucked into his neck and Kurt holds him as tight as he can.  Kurt’s heart is pounding and he’s sure he’s sweating, but he doesn’t care.  Blaine smells like warm skin and laundry soap and Kurt doesn’t want to let go ever. He thinks maybe he didn’t misunderstand Blaine’s intentions when asking him out to dinner, or bringing him coffee, after all.  Only that he was a complete idiot about Sebastian.

 

Kurt finally pulls away, reluctantly, and steps back. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “Seriously.”

 

Blaine nods.  “Of course.”  His hands are still on Kurt’s waist and Kurt is just fine with it.  “Call me when you can,” he says again, before finally stepping back.

 

“I will.”

 

“Have a safe flight.”

 

Kurt nods and turns away, heading for the nearest security check point.  When he looks over his shoulder, Blaine is still standing there, watching him until he’s finally out of sight.

 

***

 

Kurt hates hospitals, has ever since his mother died in one and there was nothing he could do about it.  The sharp, empty smell of them.  The endless beeping.  The layer of fear that permeates every corner – that rolling feeling that anything could go wrong at any moment.  And often does.

 

But his dad is awake when he finally slips into the room. Kurt thought he’d prepared himself on the flight for this moment, but the sight of his dad lying in a stark white hospital gown with wires and tubes and beeping machines everywhere brings sudden tears streaming hot down his face.

 

“Hey, son,” Burt greets and that just makes the tears come faster.  He’s paler than usual, and there are dark circles under his eyes, but he looks okay. He’s alive and he’s awake and he’s okay.

 

“Dad,” Kurt mumbles, dropping his bad on the floor and rushing to his father’s bedside.  “What happened?!”

 

Burt lets Kurt take one of his hands, the one without the IV. “I’m fine, Kurt,” he stresses. “I’m fine.”

  
“You’re _not_ fine,” Kurt counters, trying not to feel the same hysteria he did when the nurse called all those hours ago.  “You had a heart attack!”

 

“Just a little one,” Burt holds his other hand up, his thumb and index finger spaced very close together.

 

A begrudging laugh forces its way from Kurt. “Jesus, dad.”  He knows how his father deals with stress, remembers the jokes and the teasing and the fun nights when his mother was nearing the end.

 

“You didn’t have to come all this way for me.”

 

Kurt rolls his eyes and squeezes his dad’s hand. “Yes, I did.”

 

“I’m fine, I swear,” Burt stresses. “Carole’s been coming by. I’m being taken care of.”

 

“Carole Hudson?”

 

Burt grins brightly.  “She’s a nurse here.  Imagine that.”

  
Kurt can’t help but smile a little.  If his dad is talking about the woman he’s been dancing around for a year then he must be feeling okay.  “Yeah, imagine that.”  Kurt’s glad there’s someone else here for his father.

 

“Not that it’s not good to see you, but…” Burt trails off with a leading look.

 

“Yeah, I uh, had a little help getting here,” says Kurt, blushing already.

 

“Really.”  And there’s the tone of voice Kurt remembers, the one that says his dad knows that there’s more to the story than he’s saying.

 

“Dad, is this really the time for this?”

 

Burt shrugs.  “I’m not going anywhere for a couple of days, all I’ve got is time.”

 

“It was Blaine,” Kurt admits.

 

“The guy you like,” prompts Burt, a knowing twinkle in his eyes.  Kurt hates and loves that look.

 

Kurt nods, “Yeah.”

 

“He helped you get here.”  Kurt can tell by the gruff note in his father’s voice that Burt both approves and is wary of Blaine’s generosity.

 

“He did.”

 

“Well,” Burt pauses, a considering expression on his still pale face.  “I’m not saying that’s love, but son, it’s kind of heading that way.”

 

Kurt chokes on air.  “Dad!”

 

Burt chuckles.  “I’m just saying, Kurt. A man does that for someone he cares about.”

 

Kurt blinks and takes a deep breath. He thinks about his dinner with Blaine, those long hours of uninterrupted conversation.  He thinks about how Blaine brought him coffee and took him to lunch and told him about the time his brother almost got him arrested. He thinks about Blaine’s hands the looks they share and the way Blaine gravitates towards him. He thinks about Blaine paying for his flight and the deeply etched concern on his face and the way his body molded so close to Kurt’s when they hugged.

 

“He does, doesn’t he,” says Burt.

 

“What?”

 

“Care about you.”

 

Kurt swallow past the heavy lump in his throat and nods. “Yeah, I think he does.”  He’s going to have to talk to Blaine the second he gets back to Los Angeles. “Enough about me though, okay? Tell me everything the doctor said.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this little AU. I appreciate it.

Kurt is nervous, waiting outside baggage claim for Blaine to circle around to pick him up.

 

They’d talked a few times during the week Kurt was in Ohio and texted infrequently, mostly vague updates about Kurt’s father and Blaine making sure everything was okay.  Kurt is grateful for Blaine, for giving him that much. The only reason Kurt was comfortable leaving was because his dad had been discharged from the hospital with a list of instructions for a new diet and Carole Hudson had promised Kurt she’d look after Burt.  Kurt knows there’s a little more there than nursing care and he’s pretty okay with that. For as long as he’s known her, Carole’s been nothing but kind and generous and if this is moment for her and his father than he won’t begrudge them that.

 

Kurt’s stomach tightens in anticipation when he sees Blaine’s dark blue BMW pull around and stop at the curb.  Blaine gets out of the car even though a police officer is already waving him to move along.

 

“Hey,” Blaine murmurs, hesitating just a moment before he reaches out and tugs Kurt into a warm hug.  It feels good, better than the last one because Kurt’s head isn’t a mess of worry for his father and he can revel in the hard muscles and softer places of Blaine’s body.

 

“Hi,” Kurt says, hooking his chin over Blaine’s shoulder and breathing in the soapy scent of his skin and light fragrance of his shampoo.  It’s almost like Blaine showered just before he came to pick him up.

 

“How are you?” asks Blaine, drawing back to look him in the eyes as he tugs Kurt’s bag from his shoulder while gently rubbing his arm.

 

“Better.”  Kurt wants to say more, but the police officer whistles at them to clear out for the next car and Blaine rolls his eyes.

 

“Come on.”  He puts Kurt’s bag in the backseat before opening the passenger door for Kurt and Kurt doesn’t protest at all.  He’s starting to realize that this is who Blaine is, this dark-haired _gentleman_ with bizarre taste in neckwear and laughing eyes.  And if he wants Blaine, wants to be _with_ him, he can’t try and change the very things that make him _Blaine_.

 

“Are you hungry?” asks Blaine as they pull out of the airport and onto the highway.  It’s late, well past rush hour, and the traffic heading north towards Hollywood is about as good as it gets.

 

“Not really, but thanks.”  Kurt really just wants to get home, though he’s not embarrassed to acknowledge that he wouldn’t mind going to Blaine’s house too. He’s had time to think this last week about all the things he wants – the things he’ll let himself want – and Blaine is one of those things.  If Blaine will still have him.

 

“So your dad is doing okay?”  Blaine eyes are on the road, but there’s tension in his body.

 

“Yeah, I think so.  He’s certainly in good hands, anyway.”  Kurt remembers the smitten look on Burt’s face whenever Carole came to the house to check up on him.  It eased sharp pain of worry to know that she was there for him – as a nurse, a friend, and maybe even more.

 

“It sounds like it,” Blaine agrees and Kurt can hear the smile in his voice.

 

“Thanks again for coming to get me.”

 

“Of course.  Anytime.  I mean it,” stresses Blaine.  His hand twitches where it’s sitting on the gearshift, like he’s driving a manual, and before Kurt can chicken out, he reaches across and rests his hand over Blaine’s.

 

Blaine’s glances over at him, a surprised, yet pleased grin playing on his lips.  Kurt’s never been very good at this, at making his intentions – or his feelings – clear, but he wants to learn.  He tangles their fingers together and brushes his thumb against Blaine’s pinky and Blaine’s smile widens into a laugh.

 

Kurt doesn’t remember the rest of the drive save for the heat of Blaine’s skin and the quickening pace of his own heart.

 

***

 

The streets in Kurt’s neighborhood are dark and quiet when Blaine pulls up in front of Kurt’s apartment.  Despite himself, despite his relief that his father is okay and his eagerness to get back into his own bed, Kurt is disappointed for the drive to be over.

 

He likes being near Blaine.  He loves the conversation, loves that it’s getting easier to talk to him now that he knows how Blaine feels.  Or at least that he knows _better_.  He doesn’t want it to be over.

 

“So,” Kurt looks back at the front door of his apartment.  It’s late, he’s exhausted from the last week and the flight, and he doesn’t want the night to end.  He doesn’t want Blaine to go home.  “I-”

 

“Look, Kurt-” Blaine begins at the same time and they both laugh, embarrassed and giddy and Kurt just wants to _know_.

 

“You go first.”

 

Blaine shoves his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched in and brow furrowed.  “Kurt, I – I just wanted to say that I’m not totally sure what happened the other week. At work.  I guess I thought that you and I were, well, that we were starting to… _be_ something and-”

 

“But you and Sebastian,” Kurt blurts out, before he can choke it back.  He doesn’t want to be that person, but it’s there.  It is.

 

“Fuck Sebastian,” Blaine snaps, harsher than Kurt’s ever heard him and it makes his stomach clench.

 

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Kurt whispers and then bites his lip. Blaine’s eyes have gone wide but his jaw is tight.  Kurt hopes he hasn’t just ruined everything.  Again. His heart is in his throat and it’s pounding hard.

 

“Kurt.  Bas and I.”  Blaine takes a step closer to him.  “Yeah, we dated. But it was never – it was never going to go anywhere.  We’re too different.  We want different things.”

 

“But he’s all over you at work.  And last week…” Kurt trails off.  The thought of Sebastian’s hand on the back of Blaine’s neck still tastes sour.

 

Blaine’s face does something complicated that Kurt can’t decipher.  “He’s jealous,” Blaine says, after a long pause.  “Of _you_ ,” he clarifies when Kurt just stares blankly at him.

 

“Why?” Kurt wonders.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine intones, like it’s fucking _obvious_.  He takes another step closer and his hands pull out of his pockets like he wants to reach for Kurt, but doesn’t.  “Because I _like you_. And he knows it. And this is…his way of being an asshole about it.”

 

All of the air leaves Kurt.  His heart makes a dive for his toes before jumping back to his throat where it thuds so hard, so fast it hurts. His stomach isn’t doing much better.  He thought he knew how Blaine felt, finally, or at least he was coming to understand. But to hear it, to watch the words fall from Blaine lips, is something else all together.  Kurt doesn’t often dare to hope but now he believes.

 

“I owe you an apology,” he says softly.

 

“You don’t,” protests Blaine.  His eyebrows are still pulled down but there’s trembling hope in the corners of his mouth.

 

“I do,” Kurt insists. “I fucked up. I did.  And I took it out on you.  And I’m sorry.  I’m…not used to people…”

 

“Wanting you?” Blaine cuts in, like he’s revealing a secret. “Liking you?”

 

“Blaine.”  Even if he believes it, now, it makes him blush to hear it.

 

“Well, get used to it.  Because I _do_. And if you want to tell me to fuck off that’s fine, but.”  Blaine shrugs, a little helplessly, and Kurt is so fucking crazy about him.

 

“I don’t.”

 

“What?”

 

“Want to tell you to fuck off,” smiles Kurt.

 

“Oh.”  Blaine grins at him.  “Well.”

 

“Yeah.”  He feels like they’re sixteen and standing on his father’s porch after their first horrendously awkward not-date.

 

“So…we’re good then?  You and I…about this.” Blaine gestures between their bodies and Kurt nods.

 

“Yeah.  We are.”

 

Blaine’s smile is exquisite.  “Good.  Okay.”  He shuffles a little on his feet, wanting to come closer, Kurt thinks, but holding back. “Well, I guess that I should, you know.”  He jerks his head back towards his car, but doesn’t leave, and Kurt realizes that Blaine doesn’t want the night to end either.

 

He’s suddenly struck by his blinding want of Blaine, fast and complete.  He wants to invite Blaine inside, to wrap him up in his arms and get him out of his expensive clothes and he doesn’t care that they haven’t been a “couple” for more than a minute.  It doesn’t matter. What matters is the still unknown taste of Blaine’s mouth and the grip of his hands on his hips and the way he sounds when he’s losing control.

 

Kurt wonders if this is what it’s like for other people, this kind of surprising, aching need that flashes through him, hot and desperate and wild as the moonswept night.

 

Sex is hard for Kurt, and intimacy even harder, but he thinks – he’s certain – that with Blaine it would be easy. He thinks of the sweet curve of Blaine’s waist and the smooth hollow of his throat and how good he’d felt pressed up against Kurt’s body.  Kurt shivers in the warm evening air and breathes deep to soothe the flaring ache of want locked in his hips.

 

“I should go,” Blaine says, voice gone deep and a little rough, and Kurt does not know how long he’s been standing there, staring.

 

“Yeah, it’s late and…”  


“It’s been a tough week,” Blaine finishes. “Well, goodnight.” He twitches forward like he wants to hug Kurt, but stops himself.  “Goodnight,” he repeats before ducking his head and turning back to his car.

 

Kurt watches him for a long second, watches the shifting his back and the play of his legs beneath his tight jeans. He does not want him to go.

 

“Blaine, I-”

 

But Kurt doesn’t get to finish because suddenly Blaine is there.  He’s striding back to Kurt and he’s right there, big, strong hands cupping Kurt’s face with firm surety and pulling him into a kiss.

 

Kurt gasps and flails and falls into it before his brain can catch up with his mouth.  Blaine’s lips are soft and his kiss is hard and Kurt gets his arms around Blaine’s body to pull him closer.  He feels Blaine hips against his own and the press of his stomach and he’s sure that’s the beating of Blaine’s heart, pounding against his own chest. He hasn’t kissed anyone in years and he’s sure never like this.  Blaine tastes of water as his tongue slips past Kurt’s parted lips and Kurt couldn’t stop the needy groan that rises from his chest if he wanted to.  He doesn’t want to.

 

“Kurt,” Blaine mumbles into his mouth as he struggles for air, gasping harshly against Kurt’s lips like they’ve done so much more than kiss. But Kurt just shakes his head and finds Blaine’s mouth again, biting at his lips before searching for another taste of Blaine’s tongue. He gets a hand in Blaine’s hair, fingers curling and tugging, and he swallows down Blaine’s soft, panting gasp.

 

He could do this forever, he thinks, just him and Blaine and hands and heat and closeness.  He can feel Blaine’s thighs rubbing against his own and in the insistent, stuttering press of his hips.  The blatant heat and hardness of him and Kurt wants them inside, wants Blaine inside.

 

But he can’t.  He knows he can’t.  It’s late and this is too new.  No matter how badly he wants, or Blaine wants, he knows it has to wait. Just a little longer.

 

“Fuck, Kurt,” Blaine groans as he finally breaks the kiss, deep and heady and the broken sound of it makes Kurt ache. Blaine rests his forehead against Kurt’s and Kurt can still taste his breath in the hot, damp air between them.

 

“Blaine, I…” He doesn’t know what to say. If he’s not careful he’ll tell Blaine to come inside.

 

“No, I know.”  Blaine licks his lips and Kurt aches to know if he can taste his kisses there.  Blaine’s hands slip from his face as he takes a step back and Kurt cannot stop his eyes from tracking down the length of Blaine’s body, past his heaving chest and down to where Blaine’s own want is clearly visible.

  
“I’m, you know that I…” Kurt stops and swallows, unsure of just what exactly he’s trying to say.

 

But Blaine huffs a soft laugh.  “Oh, Kurt.  I _know_.  Believe me I know.”  He ducks in and presses a fast kiss to Kurt’s mouth that nevertheless leaves him just this side of breathless.

 

“Okay.  I’m going.  I am.” Blaine takes a step back and then another.  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”  He tilts his head hopefully and Kurt nods.

 

“Yes, please.”  Kurt tries not to think about how Elliott will be out late tomorrow night at a gig, or that Blaine probably lives alone.  Either option is good.

 

“Good.” Blaine grins then, so widely his eyes almost disappear.  “Well, good night. For real this time.” He winks and Blaine laughs.

 

“Goodnight, Blaine.”  Kurt turns and lets himself into the apartment building. He knows Blain watches him until the door closes behind him.

 

When Kurt gets into his apartment and into his bedroom (alone, but deliriously happy), he collapses on his bed and cannot wipe the grin from his face until he falls asleep.

 

***

 

Kurt has every intention of “taking things slow,” with Blaine.  Of doing the whole dinner and movies and walks in the park song and dance that he knows tends to happen. He wants those things with Blaine – the romance.  But when Blaine comes over that night after work, his tie is loose around his neck (a deep purple silk with ridiculous tiny bowties embroidered on it) and the first two buttons of his shirt are undone and Kurt can’t be fucked to take things slow.

 

He fists his hands in the lapels of Blaine’s suit jacket and tugs him close, barely giving him time to shut the front door.

 

“Well, hello to you too,” Blaine laughs, getting his hands in Kurt’s hair and letting himself get walked back to Kurt’s bedroom.

 

“Hi,” Kurt giggles, he fucking _giggles_ , and he doesn’t care.  He’s spent the whole day thinking about Blaine, thinking about what they might become to each other, and what they might do tonight, and now Blaine is there.  Kurt’s hands burrow beneath the jacket and find the solid curve of Blaine’s waist. He can feel the heat of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.

 

“Nice apartment,” Blaine teases as Kurt gets the bedroom door shut behind them.

 

“I’ll give you a tour later.”  Kurt is so thankful Elliott isn’t home as he peppers tiny kisses all along the line of Blaine’s cheekbone to his mouth. The scratch of Blaine’s stubble makes him shiver.

 

“I feel like, like I should take you on a date,” Blaine mumbles, struggling out of his jacket and leaving it on the floor of Kurt’s room.

 

Kurt rolls his eyes and then bites at the hinge of Blaine’s jaw, tasting the salt of his skin.  Blaine moans, breathy and a little shocked, and Kurt makes a note that Blaine doesn’t mind a little biting.  “We’ve been on dates,” he counters, sliding Blaine’s tie out of his collar and dropping that to the floor too.  He’ll worry about wrinkles when he doesn’t have Blaine’s tongue on his throat or his big hands gripping at his ass.

 

“I would have remembered that.”  Blaine noses at his cheek, nudging until he turns his face back for another kiss.  Kurt can feel Blaine’s fingers working at the buttons of his shirt and he shivers again even though his skin is so hot.  He’d dressed for the possibility of a dinner, or something else, something he might have to look acceptable for, but now he wishes he were in a simple t-shirt he could just tug off.

 

“Elliott’s show,” reminds Kurt.  “And dinner that one night after work.” He pushes Blaine’s shirt off his shoulders and lets it flutter to the growing pile of clothes. “That time you followed me on the run to the Coffee Bean.”

 

“Those weren’t dates,” Blaine chides, finally getting Kurt out of his shirt.  “Not proper ones.”

 

“Why not?” Kurt rakes his eyes across Blaine’ body, the dark hair on his chest and his small, peaked nipples.  Want flashes through his gut, aching and pulsing, and his skin tingles.  “You were there.  I was there.” It was more than enough for him, especially now that he has Blaine right here.

 

“I would have done something more for you,” Blaine says and Kurt shudders as Blaine gets his hands on the bared skin of his waist, his hips, fingers dipping under the waist band of his pants.

 

“Those were good,” Kurt stresses, arching into the touch and leaning in to drag his lips across Blaine’s jaw.  He tastes like skin and sweat and Kurt loves it. “Don’t take them away from me.”

 

Blaine shakes his head and twists to capture Kurt’s mouth and Kurt has quickly become addicted to his kisses.  “I won’t,” he mutters against Kurt’s lips before sliding his tongue inside.

 

Kurt ends up on the bed without quite knowing how he got there.  It hasn’t mattered before, but suddenly he’s glad he got a queen-sized bed instead of a full. There’s more than enough room for the two of them.

 

Kurt’s back arches as Blaine’s clever lips trail down the length of his neck and across his chest to mouth at his nipples. A flush breaks out all across his body at the graze of Blaine’s teeth and Kurt shudders, moaning and tangling his fingers in Blaine’s hair.  His hips are moving restlessly and he’d be embarrassed that he’s basically humping up against Blaine’s thigh except he’s just not.  Blaine doesn’t seem to mind, given the way he’s thrusting back against his hip.

 

“What do you want?” Blaine asks, dragging his tongue flat across Kurt’s nipple, making heat pool in his belly and spread out along his limbs.

 

“Anything,” babbles Kurt.  He doesn’t care.  Not really.  He’s got Blaine in his bed and the promise of kisses beyond this night. Whatever Blaine wants now is fine by him.

 

“Too easy,” Blaine pants.  “Tell me.  Make me certain.”  Blaine shifts and suddenly his hand is _there_ , cupping Kurt’s groin with a firm, confident touch and Kurt is groaning, head digging back into the pillow as his hips push up.  He’s hard behind his fly and he knows Blaine knows it. It’s a heady feeling, that knowledge, and more so that he can tell Blaine is too, just after a few kisses.

 

“Just.  Come on.” Kurt reaches for Blaine, pulling him down and between his wide spread thighs.

 

“Let me just…” Blaine trails off as he reaches between them. He struggles with the zipper of Kurt’s pants, swearing under his breath until the fly gives and he can tug Kurt’s pants down and off.  Kurt kind of loves the soft _thwump_ of his pants hitting the floor.

 

“You too,” Kurt says, digging his fingers under Blaine’s waistband, but Blaine just grins wickedly and kisses him quickly.

 

“Already on it.”  Blaine kicks his pants off the end of the bed and Kurt reaches for him, pulling him back between his legs and holding on tight.

 

He does not swallow back the moan that spills from his lips at the feeling of Blaine’s cock pressed up against his own, separated only by two thin layers of fabric.  It feels too good and he’s spent too long denying himself this. Blaine without his suit and tie is a wonder.  He’s small and tight and his skin is softer than it has any right to be, except where his dark hair scratches under Kurt’s touch – his chest, his thighs, the scrape of his stubbled cheek against Kurt’s lips.

 

Blaine’s hips roll experimentally, cock slotting up against Kurt’s, and the sweet, aching friction sparks all the up Kurt’s spine. His nipples are so tight they ache and his nails bite into the shifting muscles of Blaine’s back where he’s gripping him so tightly.

 

“Is this…is this…” Blaine struggles to ask. His stomach is hot against Kurt’s, his strong thighs too, skin starting to slide slickly as sweat gathers between them.

 

“It’s perfect,” Kurt says, pushing his hips up and swearing at the catch of the head of his cock against Blaine’s as they move with each other.  There will be time later for more, Kurt knows, but right now this is what he wants. It’s burning in his stomach and his hips, heat gathering in his balls and spreading down along his limbs. He can feel every throb of Blaine’s thick cock against his own as the sticky catch of their precome through their underwear.  It’s hot and messy and fast and it’s exactly what he needs.

 

Kurt opens his eyes on a hard thrust and is struck suddenly by the sight of Blaine, curls plastered to his forehead with sweat, lips red and swollen and wet from Kurt’s own kisses.  He’s panting, abs flexing with every thrust, and the muscles of his back tightening under Kurt’s hand.  Want flares sharply in Kurt’s belly, making his cock spill more precome as his hips thrust and grind up on a stutter.  Above him, Blaine gasps and his eyes flutter shut as he swears. This is not going to last long at all. He doesn’t care. He wants Blaine to come; he wants to see it and feel it.  He wants to be the reason for it.

 

It’s stupid to think and he can’t ever say it, but Kurt’s never wanted anyone like this before – this endless aching kind of a need. It’s in his fingertips and his blood and his hummingbird heart.  Kurt holds onto Blaine tighter.

 

“Fuck, Kurt, I-” Blaine bites out.  His hips are losing their rhythm, grinding and thrusting out of synch and as much Kurt wishes that thick cock were inside him, this is too good on its own.

 

“No, fuck. I know.”  Kurt’s head tips back on a gasp and a moan is pulled from him when Blaine shifts down to mouth messily at his neck, sucking on the tender skin hard enough Kurt is sure he’s raising a bruise.  He doesn’t care.  Whatever Blaine wants.  Kurt is sure he’s leaving his own marks on Blaine’s back.

 

Kurt’s toes are curling and his breath is coming in hard, sharp gasps and his chest aches with the need for air. He tilts his hips, lifting his legs to wrap around Blaine’s waist and the shift makes Blaine gasps.

 

“Fuck, Kurt,” he moans, like they’re the only words he has left. Maybe they are.

 

The sheets are sticking to Kurt’s body, damp with their mingled sweat, and the unmistakable scent of their sex is everywhere. He loves it.  Kurt can feel it rising up in him, fast and immutable. He’s going to come already, messy and hard, and it’s going to be because of Blaine.  Blaine is going to see him and hear him, hold him through it, and the thought makes him shudder and jerk. Kurt’s balls are drawing up, heat coiling in his belly, and it only takes three more hard thrusts of Blaine’s cock against his own before Kurt is coming, groaning through it as his body is wracked with sharp, uncontrollable spasms.

 

He’s still shaking, still shuddering through the aftershocks when he feels the pulsejerk of Blaine’s cock as he comes and the wet heat of it spreading between them.  Kurt lifts his hips weakly, rubbing his oversensitive cock against Blaine’s, just to hear him swear and feel his body tremble.

 

Blaine finally lowers himself down, half shifting off of Kurt but keeping him wrapped up in his arms.  Kurt can’t stop the fine trembles shivering through his body.

 

“Jesus.” Blaine’s still panting, hot huffs of air against Kurt’s throat and Kurt pets Blaine’s sweat-slick back. His skin is so hot and Kurt can feel Blaine’s rapidly pounding heart against his own chest.

 

“Well, now I’m _really_ taking you out to dinner,” Blaine mumbles after several long minutes and Kurt laughs.

 

He thinks he should feel disgusting. Come is drying in his underwear and he’s not sure if he’s coated in more of Blaine’s sweat or his own. But he doesn’t really care. Everything feels loose and heavy now.  The heat that was burning through him has banked to a soothing glow and Kurt can feel suffused throughout his limbs.  He’s content, he realizes, and happy and he wants this feeling to last forever.

 

“I’m staying,” Blaine states, after a moment of quiet punctuated by their slowing breaths and quieting hearts.  His voice is just this side of raspy and it makes Kurt shiver all over again.  Kurt thinks about Blaine falling asleep next to him and wants nothing else, nothing more.

 

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, letting his eyes close. “Stay.”

 

***

Epilogue:

 

A week later Blaine is in Kurt’s kitchen, in his underwear, flipping pancakes at the stove when Kurt shuffles in, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

 

“Morning,” Kurt mumbles, snuggling up against Blaine’s back and winding his arms around Blaine’s small waist.  The back of Blaine’s neck is warm where Kurt presses his face to it.

 

“Morning to you, too.”  Blaine leans into his embrace, humming contentedly as he slides a perfectly cooked pancake off onto a plate that’s warming on the back of the stove. Kurt does so appreciate a man who can cook.

 

“Are those pancakes for me?” Kurt asks. He smells coffee and bacon and his whole body feels warm and heavy with happiness.

 

Blaine huffs a laugh as he pours more batter onto the griddle. “They could be.”

 

“Good.”  Kurt squeezes Blaine around his middle and doesn’t ever want to let go.

 

Breakfast is sweet and easy, just like the other breakfasts they’ve shared over the week.  Blaine has hardly left Kurt’s apartment except to go to work and get clean clothes.  Elliott doesn’t seem to mind the frequent guest and Kurt doesn’t either. After the stress and fear and uncertainly of before, he’s grateful to wake up with Blaine in his bed and fall asleep with him there too, legs and arms and bodies tangled. He knows things will even out soon, and that they’ll find the new rhythm of their lives, but for now he’s soaking it all up.

  
That morning, Kurt is flipping through a _Hollywood Reporter_ when Blaine suddenly looks up from the script he’s reading on his iPad.

 

“Come with me,” he says, apparently apropos of nothing.

 

Kurt blinks, wondering if he’d missed the first part of the sentence. “What?”  


“Come with me,” Blaine repeats.  He’s pushed his iPad aside and is leaning towards Kurt, elbows on the table and eyes bright in the soft morning light and cheeks pinking up.

 

“Where?”  It’s the weekend and he has no intention of going anywhere, except back to bed at some point.

 

“To New York.”

 

Kurt opens his mouth and then closes it again. He’s pretty sure Blaine just said “New York,” but that doesn’t make any sense.  “Like…on vacation?”  He really doesn’t have the money for that, even though he knows Blaine would want to pay for it.

 

“No, I mean.  Let’s move there.  You and I.”   Kurt rakes his eyes over Blaine’s face, his lifted eyebrows and the excitement in the corners of his eyes, the hope in the curve of his mouth.  He has no idea where this is coming from.

 

“What are you even-”

 

“Let’s leave this place,” Blaine cuts in. His voice is pitched higher and Kurt can feel the enthusiasm beginning to radiate from him, like an idea has taken root in his soul.  “Let’s to New York.  I’ll go back to school for music.  You can get a new job. Or go to school. Or whatever you want. But let’s do it. Let’s go.”

 

Kurt blinks again.  What is he supposed to say to this?  “I just moved here.”  He offers flatly, but Blaine just shakes his head like it doesn’t matter.  Maybe it doesn’t.

 

“Are you happy here?” Blaine asks, whiskey warm eyes unblinking on Kurt’s.

 

“Well, I…” Kurt pauses.  Despite knowing that it’s a crazy, stupid idea, despite the bare bones fact that they’ve been together a week and shouldn’t be making plans for anything beyond dinner, despite having a lease and no money and all those things that make up an adult life, Kurt cannot dismiss the idea. It’s Blaine and he’s always been completely crazy when it comes to him.

 

“You’re _not_ ,” Blaine pushes.  “You’re not happy here.  _I’m_ not happy here.  Neither of us want _this_.” Blaine hands encompass the whole of Los Angeles, the agency, and his family name.  “But I’m happy with _you_.” Blaine’s voice goes soft and his eyes fond and Kurt heart leaps into his throat.  “I am.  And I think you’re happy with me.”

 

Kurt breathes in.  His heart is pounding and his stomach is clenching, but his mind is still.  Calm. He is somehow certain of this. “I am,” he says and Blaine smiles so brightly Kurt feels it in his own bones.

 

Blaine reaches across the table and takes Kurt’s hands. “Look, Kurt. I know this is new, so new, but I just feel like – I know this is more than dating. I know it’s going to be more than that. I can _feel_ it.  And if it’s not the same for you tell me now.  But I think we can do this.  I think we should.  I know there’s so much to work out, so many pieces. But I think we should try it. Together.  And I’m not saying it should be tomorrow. But.  Soon.”

 

“It is,” Kurt whispers, blinking slowly and not bothering to try and slow the birdwing beating of his heart.

 

“What?”

 

“The same for me.”  And that’s his new, open heart on the table.  It’s too soon and it’s too stupid and it’s in his blood already.  There’s no point in denying it.  His father tells him endlessly that he knew the moment he laid eyes on his mother. There’s no reason it can’t be the same for him.

 

Blaine pushes up out of his chair to kiss Kurt over the table, soft and sweet and promising.  “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Kurt can’t stop grinning, even when Blaine kisses him again, his hand curving around Kurt’s jaw and thumb brushing his ear.

 

“So, New York, huh?”

 

Kurt takes a breath and the air between them tastes sweet. “Yeah.  New York.”

 

He doesn’t know what the next months are going to bring, or the next year.   But Los Angeles brought him Blaine and he thinks maybe New York might bring him even more.


End file.
